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THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

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y/lUi/.'>  ^^^//7/*    ^///f^'//   ^A////rJ.^ 


CHRISTIAN    CHARITY 

EXPLAINED ; 

OR    THE 

/ 

INFLUENCE  OF  RELIGION  UPON  TEMPER 


/ 


STATED  ; 

IN   AN   EXPOSITON    OP  THE    THIRTEENTH    CHAPTER   OF 
THE  FIRST  EPISTLE  TO  THE  CORINTHIANS. 


BY  JOHN  ANGELL  JAMES, 

Author  of  the  Christian  Father's  Present,  <^c.  4*c. 


"Truth  and  Love  are  two  of  the  most  powerful  things  in  the  world  ;  and  when 
they  both  go  together,  they  cannot  easily  be  withstood.  The  golden  beams  of  Truth, 
and  the  silken  cords  of  Love,  twisted  together,  will  draw  men  oa  witit  a  iiwcet 
violence,  whether  they  will  or  no." — Cudtcorth, 


NEW- YORK : 
PUBLISHED    B¥    J.    LEAVITT,    182    BROADTVAY.    . 

BOSTON  : 
CROCKER  AND  BREWSTER,  47  WASHINGTON-STREET. 

1829. 


( 


PrinUNl  by  Uraf  A  Bum*. 


PREFACE. 


A  WORK  which  the  Author  published  a  few  years  since, 
on  the  Duties  of  Church  Members,  concludes  with  the 
following  sentence : — "  Let  us  remember,  that  humility 
and  LOVE  are  the  necessary  fruits  of  our  doctrines,  the 
highest  beauty  of  our  character,  and  the  guardian  angels 
of  our  churches."  To  prove  and  elucidate  this  senti- 
ment, and  to  state  at  greater  length  than  it  was  possible  for 
him  to  do  in  that  treatise,  the  nature,  operations,  and  im- 
portance of  CHARITY  ;  he  was  induced  to  enter  upon  a 
series  of  Discourses  on  the  chapter  which  is  the  subject  of 
this  volume :  These  Discourses,  were  heard  with  much 
attention,  and  apparent  interest.  Before  they  were  fin- 
ished, many  requests  were  presented  for  their  publication ; 
a  promise  was  given  to  that  effect,  and  the  intention  an- 
nounced to  the  Public.  On  a  further  inspection  of  his 
notes,  the  Author  saw  so  Uttle  that  was  either  novel,  or 
on  any  account  worthy  to  meet  the  public  eye,  that  he 
had  for  two  years  quite  abandoned  his  intention  of  print- 
ing. Circumstances  which  need  not  be  mentioned,  to- 
gether with  frequent  inquiries  from  his  friends  after  tlie 
forthcoming  treatise,  drew  his  attention  again  to  the  sub- 
ject a  few  months  since,  and  revived  the  original  purpose 
of  sending  from  the  press  the  substance  of  these  plain 
and  practical  Discourses.  That  intention  is  now  execut- 
ed; with  what  results,  the  sovereign  grace  of  Jehovah,  to 
which  it  is  humbly  commended,  must  determine. 

The  Author  offers  tliis  volume  primarily  and  chiefly  tb 
his  own  friends,  to  whom  it  is  dedicated.  He  has,  how- 
ever, by  publish  ng  it,  placed  it  within  the  reach  of  the 
Public,  though  he  can  truly  say,  that  he  does  not  expect 

2GG3978 


IV  PREFACE. 

much  interest  to  be  produced  by  his  work,  in  the  minds 
of  many,  beyond  those  who  are  prepared,  by  friend- 
ship, to  value  it  above  its  intrinsic  merits.  One  thing 
is  certain,  the  subject  is  confessedly  important,  and  it 
is  as  plain  as  it  is  important.  It  requires  little  argu- 
ment to  explain  or  to  defend  it ;  and  as  for  eloquence 
to  recommend  and  enforce  it,  the  only  power  that  can 
render  it  effectual  for  practical  benefit,  is  the  demonstra- 
tion of  the  Spirit :  without  this  aid,  a  giant  in  literature 
could  do  nothing,  and  the  feeblest  effort,  by  such  assist- 
ance, may  be  successful.  Too  much  has  not  been  said, 
and  cannot  be  said,  about  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel ; 
but  too  little  may  be  said,  and  too  httle  is  said  and 
thought,  about  its  spirit.  To  contribute  something  to- 
wards supplying  this  deficiency  in  the  treasures  of  the  tem- 
ple, the  Author  offers  this  small  volume ;  and  though  it  be 
but  as  the  widow's  two  mites,  yet,  as  it  is  all  he  has  to 
give,  as  it  is  given  willingly,  and  with  a  desire  to  glorify 
God,  he  humbly  hopes  that  however  it  may  be  despised 
by  those,  who  he  rejoices  to  know,  are  so  much  richer 
than  himself  in  intellectual  and  moral  afiluence,  it  will 
not  be  rejected  by  him,  who  more  regards  the  motive 
than  the  amount  of  every  offering  that  is  carried  to  his  altar. 
The  Author  can  easily  suppose,  that  among  many  other 
faults  which  the  scrutinizing  eye  of  criticism  will  dis- 
cover in  his  work,  and  which  its  stern  voice  will  con- 
demn, one  is  the  tautologies,  of  which,  in  some  places,  it 
appears  to  be  guilty.  In  answer  to  this,  he  can  only  re- 
mark, that  in  the  discussion  of  such  a  subject,  where  the 
parts  are  divided  by  such  almost  imperceptible  lines  and 
softened  down  so  much  into  each  other,  he  found  it  very 
difficult  to  avoid  this  repetition,  which,  after  all,  is  per- 
haps not  always  a  fault — at  least  not  a  capital  one. 
Edgbaston,  4pril'22,  1828. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
CHAP.  I. 

The  occasion  of  Paul's  description  and  enforcement  of  Christian 

Charity 1 

CHAP.  n. 
The  Nature  of  Charity '. 9 

CHAP.  III. 

Christian  Love  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  that  spurious  can- 
dour which  consists  in  indifference  to  religious  sentiment,  or 
connivance  at  sinful  practices 34. 

CHAP.  IV. 
The  indispensable  necessity  of  Christian  Lore 34 

CHAP.  V. 
On  the  properties  of  Christian  Love 50 

CHAP.  VI. 
The  Meekness  of  Love 59 

CHAP.  VII. 
The  Kindness  of  Love 73* 

CHAP  VIII. 
The  Contentment  of  Love 81 

CHAP.  IX. 
The  Humility  of  Love 90 

CHAP.  X. 
The  Decorum  of  Love 102 

CHAP.  XL 
The  Disinterestedness  of  Love '. 119 

CHAP.  XIL 
The  Unsuspiciousness  of  Love ^ 1S9 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Page 
CHAP.  XIII. 

The  Joy  of  Lore 136 

CHAP.  XIV. 

The  Candour  of  Love • 143 

CHAP.  XV. 
The  Self-denial  of  Love 169 

CHAP.  XVI. 
The  Permanence  of  Love 177 

CHAP.  XVII. 
The  Pre-eminence  of  Love 201 

CHAP.  XVIIL 
Improvement. 218 

CHAP.  XIX. 
Improvement,  by  way  of  examination  and  humiliation S154 

CHAP.  XX. 
Improvement,  by  way  of  exhortation 266 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  OCCASION  OF  PAUl's  DESCRIPTION  AND  ENFORCE- 
MENT OF  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY. 


The  credibility  of  the  Gospel,  as  a  revelation  from 
heaven,  was  attested  by  miracles,  as  had  been  predict- 
ed by  the  prophet  Joel.  "  And  it  shall  come  to  pass 
afterwards,  that  I  will  pour  out  my  Spirit  upon  all  flesh, 
and  your  sons  and  your  daughters  shall  prophesy,  your 
old  men  shall  dream  dreams,  your  young  men  shall  see 
visions  ;  and  also  upon  the  servants  and  the  hand- 
maidens in  those  days,  I  will  pour  out  my  Spirit." 
This  prophecy  began  to  receive  its  accomplishment 
when  our  Lord  entered  upon  his  public  ministry, — ^but 
was  yet  more  remarkably  fulfilled,  according  to  the 
testimony  of  Peter,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  when  the 
disciples  "were  all  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
began  to  speak  with  other  tongues,  as  the  Spirit  gave 
them  utterance  ;"  and  still  continued  to  be  fulfilled  till 
the  power  of  working  miracles  was  withdrawn  from 
the  Church.  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ceased  not,  dur- 
ing his  continuance  on  earth,  to  prove,  by  these  splen- 
did achievements,  the  truth  of  his  claims  as  the  Son 
of  God  ;  and  constantly  appealed  to  them  in  his  con- 
troversy with  the  Jews,  as  the  reasons  and  the  grounds 
of  faith  in  his  communications.  By  him  the  power  of 
working  miracles  was  conferred  on  his  apostiej-  who, 

2 


2 

in  the  exercise  of  this  extraordinary  gift,  cast  out 
demons,  and  "  healed  all  manner  of  sickness,  and  all 
manner  of  disease."  Christ  also  assured  them  that, 
under  the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit,  which  was  to 
commence  after  his  decease,  their  miraculous  powers 
should  be  so  much  enlarged  and  multiplied,  as  to  ex- 
ceed those  which  had  been  exercised  by  himself.  This 
took  place  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  when  the  ability 
to  speak  all  languages  without  previous  study  was  con- 
ferred upon  them.  The  apostles,  as  the  ambassadors 
and  messengers  of  their  risen  Lord,  were  authorized 
and  enabled  to  invest  others  with  the  high  distinction  ; 
for,  to  confer  the  power  of  working  miracles,  was  a 
prerogative  confined  to  the  apostolic  office.  This  is 
evident  from  many  parts  of  the  New  Testament.  But 
while  apostles  only  could  communicate  this  power,  any 
one,  not  excepting  the  most  obscure  and  illiterate 
member  of  the  churches,  could  receive  it ;  as  it  was 
not  confined  to  Church  officers,  whether  ordinary  or 
extraordinary.  It  is  probable  that  these  gifts  were 
sometimes  distributed  among  all  the  original  members 
of  a  church :  as  the  society  increased,  they  were  con- 
fined to  a  more  limited  number,  and  granted  only  to 
such  as  were  more  eminent  among  the  brethren,  till 
at  length  they  were  probably  confined  to  the  elders ; 
thus  being  as  gradually  withdrawn  from  the  Church  as 
they  had  been  communicated. 

These  miraculous  powers  were  of  various  kinds, 
which  are  enumerated  at  length  in  the  epistle  to  the 
Romans.  "  Having  then  gifts,  dillering  according  to 
the  grace  that  is  given  to  us,  whether  prophecy,  let  us 
proj)heBy  according  to  the  propoi-tion  (analogy)  of 
faith  ;  or  m'uistry,  let  us  wait  oii  our  ministering  :  or 
he  that  teacheth,  on  teaching ;  or  he  that  exhorteth, 
on  exhortation ;  or  he  that  giveth,  let  him  do  it  with 
simplicity  ;  he  that  ruleth,  with  diligence  ;  he  that 
showeth  mercy,  with  cheerfulness."  They  are  set 
forth  still  more  at  length,  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of  the 
first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  "  Now  there  are  di- 
versities of  gifts,  but  the  same  Spirit.     And  there  are 


differences  of  administration,  but  the  same  Lord.  And 
there  are  diversities  of  operations,  but  it  is  the  same 
God  which  worketh  all  in  all.  But  the  manifestation 
of  the  Spirit  is  given  to  every  man  to  profit  withal : 
for  to  one  is  given  by  th&  Spirit,  the  word  of  wisdom ; 
to  another  the  word  of  knowledge  by  the  same  Spirit ; 
to  another,  faith  by  the  same  Spirit ;  to  another  the 
working  of  miracles  ;  to  another  prophecy ;  to  another 
discerning  of  spirits ;  to  another  divers  tongues ;  to 
another  the  interpretation  of  tongues." 

It  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  here  explain  the 
nature,  and  trace  the  distinction,  of  these  endowments 
— a  task  which  has  been  acknowledged  by  all  exposi- 
tors to  be  difficult,  and  which  is  thought  by  some  to 
be  impossible.  But  vague  and  general  as  is  the  idea 
of  them  which  we  possess,  we  can  form  some  concep- 
tion of  the  strange  and  novel  spectacle  presented  by  a 
society  in  which  they  were  in  full  operation.  They 
constituted  the  light  which  fell  from  heaven  upon  the 
Church,  and  to  which  she  appealed,  as  the  proofs  of 
her  divine  origin.  Jt  is  not  easy  for  us  to  conceive  of 
any  thing  so  striking  and  impressive,  as  a  community 
of  men  thus  remarkably  endowed.  We  may  entertain 
a  general,  though  not  an  adequate,  idea  of  the  spiritual 
glory  which  shone  upon  an  assembly,  where  one  mem- 
ber would  pour  forth,  in  strains  of  inspired  eloquence, 
the  profoundest  views  of  the  divine  economy,  and 
would  be  succeeded  by  another,  who,  in  the  exercise 
of  the  gift  of  knowledge,  would  explain  the  mysteries 
of  truth,  concealed  under  the  symbols  of  the  Jewish 
dispensation ; — where  one,  known  perhaps  to  be  illiter- 
ate, would  rise,  and  in  a  language  which  he  had  never 
studied,  descant,  without  hesitation  and  without  em- 
barrassment, on  the  sublimest  topics  of  revealed  truth  ; 
and  would  be  followed  by  another,  who,  in  the  capaci- 
ty of  an  interpreter,  would  render  into  the  vernacular 
tongue  all  that  had  been  spoken  ; — where  one  would 
heal  the  most  inveterate  diseases  of  the  body  with  a 
word,  and  another  discern  by  a  glance  the  secrets  of 
the  mind,  and  disclose  the  hypocrisy  which  lurked  un- 


der  the  veil  of  the  most  specious  exterior.  What 
seeming  confusion,  and  yet  what  real  grandeur,  must 
have  attended  such  a  scene  *?  Wliat  were  the  disputa- 
tions of  the  schools,  the  eloquence  of  the  forum,  or 
the  martial  pomp,  the  accumulating  wealth,  the  literary 
renown  of  the  Augustan  age  of  the  Roman  Empire  to 
this  extraordinary  spectacle  1  Yea,  what  was  the  gor- 
geous splendour  of  the  temple  of  Solomon,  in  the 
zenith  of  its  beauty,  compared  with  this  1  Here  were 
the  tokens  and  displays  of  a  present  though  invisible 
Deity ;  a  glory  altogether  unearthly  and  inimitable,  and 
on  that  account  the  more  remarkable. 

For  the  possession  and  exercise  of  these  gifts,  the 
Church  at  Corinth  was  eminently  distinguished.  This 
is  evident  from  the  testimony  of  Paul, — "  I  thank  my 
God  always  on  your  behalf,  for  the  grace  of  God  which 
is  given  you  by  Christ  Jesus  ;  that  in  everything  ye  are 
enriched  by  him  in  all  utterance,  and  in  all  knowledge  ; 
even  as  the  testimony  of  Christ  was  confirmed  in  you  : 
so  that  ye  come  behind  in  no  gift :  and  in  another  place 
he  asks  them — "  What  is  it,  wherein  ye  were  inierior 
to  other  Churches  ?"  It  is,  indeed,  both  a  humiliating 
apd  an  admonitory  consideration,  that  the  Church 
'which,  of  all  those  planted  by  the  Apostles,  was  the 
most  distinguished  for  its  gifts,  should  have  been  the 
least  eminent  for  its  graces  ;  for  this  was  the  case  with 
the  Christian  Society  at  Corinth.  What  a  scandalous 
abuse  and  profanation  of  the  Lord's  Supper  had  crept 
in !  What  a  schismatical  spirit  prevailed !  What  a 
connivance  at  sin  existed  !  What  resistance  to  apos- 
tolic authority  was  set  up  ! 

To  account  for  this,  it  should  be  recollected,  that 
the  possession  of  miraculous  gifts  by  no  means  implied 
the  existence  and  influence  of  sanctifying  grace.  Those 
extraordinary  powers  were  entirely  distinct  from  the 
qualities  which  aixj  essential  to  the  character  of  a  real 
Christian.  They  were  powers  conferred  not  at  all,  or 
in  a  very  subordinate  degree,  for  the  benefit  of  the  in- 
dividual himself,  but  were  distributed  according  to  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Divine  will,  for  the  edification  of 


believers,  and  the  conviction  of  unbelievers.  Hence 
saith  the  apostle, — "  Tongues  are  for  a  sign,  not  to 
them  that  believe,  but  to  them  that  believe  not :  but 
prophesying  serveth  not  for  them  that  believe  not,  but 
for  them  which  believe.  Our  Lord  has  informed  us, 
that  miraculous  endowments  were  not  necessarily  con- 
nected with,  but  were  often  disconnected  from,  per- 
sonal piety.  "Many  will  say  unto  me  in  that  day. 
Lord,  Lord,  have  we  not  prophesied  in  thy  name,  and 
in  thy  name  done  many  wonderful  works  *?  And  then 
will  I  profess  unto  them,  I  never  knew  you ;  depart 
from  me  ye  workers  of  iniquity."  Paul  supposes  the 
same  thing  in  the  commencement  of  this  chapter, 
where  he  says, — "  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of 
men,  and  of  angels,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  become 
as  sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.  And  though 
I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand  all  mys- 
teries and  all  knowledge  ; — and  though  I  have  all  faith, 
so  that  I  could  remove  mountains,  and  have  not  cha- 
rity, I  am  nothing."  This  hypothetical  mode  of  speech 
certainly  implies,  that  gifts  and  grace  are  not  necessa- 
rily connected. 

This  is  a  very  awful  consideration,  and,  by  showing 
how  far  self-deception  may  be  carried,  ought  to  be  felt 
as  a  solemn  admonition  to  all  professing  Christians,  to 
be  very  careful  and  diligent  in  the  great  business  of 
self-examination. 

It  is  evident,  both  from  the  nature  of  things,  and 
from  the  reasoning  of  the  'Apostle,  that  some  of  the 
miraculous  powers  were  more  admired,  and  therefore 
more  popular,  than  others.  The  gift  of  tongues,  as  is 
plain  from  the  reasoning  in  the  fourteenth  chapter, 
appears  to  have  been  most  coveted,  because  eloquence 
was  so  much  cultivated  by  the  Greeks  :  to  reason  and 
declaim  in  public,  as  a  talent,  was  much  admired,  and, 
as  a  practice,  was  exceedingly  common  :  schools  were 
established  to  teach  the  art,  and  places  of  public  resort 
were  frequented  to  display  it.  Hence,  in  the  Church 
of  Christ,  and  especially  with  those  whose  hearts  were 
2  * 


unsanctified  by  Divine  grace,  and  who  converted  mira- 
culous operations  into  a  means  of  personal  ambition, 
the  gift  of  tongues  was  the  most  admired  of  all  these 
^  extraordinary  powers.  A  desire  after  conformity  to 
the  envied  distinctions  of  the  world,  has  ever  been  the 
snare  and  the  reproach  of  many  of  the  members  of 
the  Christian  community. 

Where  distinctions  exist,  many  evils  will  be  sure  to 
follow,  as  long  as  human  nature  is  in  an  imperfect 
state.  Talents,  or  the  power  of  fixing  attention  and 
raising  admiration,  will  be  valued  above  virtues  ;  and 
the  more  popular  talents  will  occupy,  in  the  estimate 
of  ambition,  a  higher  rank  than  those  that  are  useful. 
Consequently,  we  must  expect,  wherever  opportunities 
present  themselves,  to  see  on  the  one  hand,  pride,  van- 
ity, arrogance,  love  of  display,  boasting,  selfishness, 
conscious  superiority,  and  a  susceptibility  of  offence  ; 
while  on  the  other,  we  shall  witness  an  equally  offen- 
sive exhibition  of  envy,  suspicion,  imputation  of  evil, 
exultation  over  failures,  and  a  disposition  to  magnify 
and  report  offences.  Such  passions  are  not  entirely 
excluded  from  the  Church  of  God,  at  least  during  its 
militant  state  ;  and  they  were  most  abundantly  exhibit- 
ed among  the  Christians  at  Corinth.  Those  who  had 
gif\s,  were  too  apt  to  exult  over  those  that  had  none  ; 
while  the  latter  indulged  in  envy,  and  ill-will  toward 
the  former :  those  who  were  favoured  with  the  most 
distinguished  endowments,  vaunted  of  their  achieve- 
ments over  those  who  attained  only  to  the  humbler 
powers  ;  and  all  the  train  of  the  irascible  passions  was 
indulged  to  such  a  degree,  as  well  nigh  to  banish  Chris- 
tian love  from  the  fellowship  of  the  faithful.  This  un- 
happy state  of  things  the  Apostle  found  it  necessary  to 
correct,  which  he  did  by  a  series  of  most  conclusive 
arguments ;  such,  for  instance,  as  that  all  these  gifts 
are  the  bestowments  of  the  Spirit,  who  in  distributing 
them  exercises  a  wise  but  irresponsible  sovereignty — 
that  they  are  all  ])e8towcd  for  mutual  advahtage,  and 
not  for  personal  glory — that  this  variety  is  essential  to 


general  edification — that  the  useful  ones  are  to  be  more 
valued  than  those  of  a  dazzling  nature — that  they  are 
dependent  on  each  other  for  their  efficiency  ;  and  he 
then  concludes  his  expostulation  and  representation, 
by  introducing  to  their  notice  that  heavenly  virtue 
which  he  so  beautifully  describes  in  the  chapter  under 
consideration,  and  which  he  exalts  in  value  and  impor- 
tance above  the  most  coveted  miraculous  powers. 
"  Now,  ye  earnestly  desire  (for  the  words  should  be 
rendered  indicatively,  and  not  imperatively,)  the  best 
gifts,  but  yet  I  show  unto  you  a  more  excellent  way." 
"  Ye  are  ambitious  to  obtain  those  endowments  which 
shall  cause  you  to  be  esteemed  as  the  most  honourable 
and  distinguished  persons  in  the  Church  ;  but,  notwith- 
standing your  high  notions  of  the  respect  due  to  those 
who  excel  in  miracles,  I  now  point  out  to  you  a  way  to 
still  greater  honour,  by  a  road  open  to  you  all,  and  in 
which  your  success  will  neither  produce  pride  in  your- 
selves, nor  excite  envy  in  others.  Follow  after 
Charity,  for  the  possession  and  exercise  of  this  grace 
is  infinitely  to  be  preferred  to  the  most  splendid  gift." 

Admirable  encomium — exalted  eulogium  on  Charity ! 
What  more  could  be  said,  or  be  said  more  properly, 
to  raise  it  in  our  esteem,  and  to  impress  it  upon  our 
heart  1  The  age  of  miracles  is  past ;  the  signs,  and 
the  tokens,  and  the  powers  which  accompanied  it,  and 
which,  like  brilliant  lights  from  heaven,  hung  in  bright 
effulgence  over  the  Church,  are  vanished.  No  longer 
can  the  members  or  ministers  of  Christ  confound  the 
mighty,  perplex  the  wise,  or  guide  the  simple  inquirer 
after  truth,  by  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit,  and  of 
power :  the  control  of  the  laws  of  nature,  and  of  the 
spirits  of  darkness,  is  no  longer  intrusted  to  us ;  but 
that  which  is  more  excellent  and  more  heavenly  re- 
mains :  that  which  is  more  valuable  in  itself,  and  less 
liable  to  abuse,  continues ;  and  that  is,  Charity. 
Miracles  were  but  the  credentials  of  Christianity,  but 
Charity  is  its  essence ;  miracles  but  its  witnesses, 
which,  having  ushered  it  into  the  world,  and  borne  their 


8 

testimony,  retired  for  ever ; — hut  Charity  is  its  very 
floul,  which,  when  disencumbered  of  all  that  is  earthly, 
ahall  ascend  to  its  native  seat — the  paradise  and  the 
presence  of  the  eternal  God. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE    NATURE    OP    CHARITY. 


In  the  discussion  of  every  subject,  it  is  of  great  im- 
portance to  ascertain,  and  to  fix  with  precision,  the 
meaning-  of  the  terms  by  which  it  is  expressed  ;  more 
especially  in  those  cases  where,  as  in  the  present  in- 
stance, the  principal  word  has  acquired,  by  the  changes 
of  time  and  usages  of  society,  more  senses  than  one. 
Formerly,  the  English  word  charity  signified  good-will 
or  benevolence :  when  restricted  to  this  meaning,  it 
was  significant  enough  of  the  Greek  term  employed  by 
the  Apostle  in  this  chapter ;  but  in  modern  times  the 
word  charity  is  often  employed  to  signify  almsgiving — i 
a  circumstance  which  has  thrown  a  partial  obscurity 
over  many  passages  of  Scripture,  and  has  led,  indeed, 
to  the  most  gross  perversion  of  Divine  truth  and  the 
circulation  of  the  most  dangerous  errors.  That  the 
charity  which  is  the  subject  of  the  present  treatise  can- 
not mean  almsgiving,  is  evident  from  the  assertion  of 
the  Apostle,  where  he  says — "  Though  I  give  all  my 
goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  have  not  charity,  it  profit- 
eth  me  nothing."  The  meaning  of  the  term  is  Love, 
and  so  it  is  rendered  in  many  other  passages  of  the 
New  Testament ;  such,  for  instance,  as  the  following : 
-r-"  Love  worketh  no  ill  to  its  neighbour."     "  The 


10 

fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love."  "  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of 
the  law."  "  Faith  vs^hich  worketh  by  love."  It  is  the 
same  word  in  all  these  texts,  which  in  the  present  chap- 
ter, and  in  the  following  passages,  is  rendered  charity. 
"  The  end  of  the  commandment  is  charity."  "  Cha- 
rity covereth  a  multitude  of  sins."  The  employment 
of  the  term  charity,  instead  of  love,  in  the  last  quoted 
passage,  is  peculiarly  to  be  regretted,  as,  in  consequence 
of  the  modem  meaning  attached  to  it,  many  have  taken 
up  the  false  and  dangerous  notion,  that  pecuniary  libe- 
rality to  the  poor  will  make  an  atonement  for  human 
guilt ;  an  error  which  could  have  had  no  countenance 
from  Scripture,  had  the  word  been  rendered  as  it  is  in 
other  places.  ^^  Love  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins." 
This  is  not  the  only  case  in  which  our  translators,  by 
the  capricious  employment  in  different  places  of  two 
English  words  for  the  same  Greek  term,  have  helped 
to  confuse  the  English  reader  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

We  shall  in  this  treatise  substitute  for  charity  the 
word  Love,  which  is  a  correct  translation  of  the  origi- 
nal. If,  however,  tlie  word  charity  should  'be  occa- 
sionally used  to  avoid  a  too  frequent  repetition  of  love, 
we  beg  that  it  may  be  understood  as  synonymous  with 
that  term. 

Of  what  kind  of  love  does  the  Apostle  treat  1  Not 
of  love  to  God,  as  is  evident  from  the  whole  chapter  ; 
for  the  properties  which  are  here  enumerated  have  no 
direct  reference  to  Jehovah,  but  relate  in  every  instance 
to  man.  It  is  a  disposition  founded,  no  doubt  upon 
love  to  God,  but  it  is  not  the  same. 

Nor  is  it,  as  many  have  represented,  the  love  of  the 
brethren.  Without  all  question,  we  are  under  special 
obligations  to  love  those  who  are  the  children  of  God, 
and  joint  heirs  with  us  in  Christ.  "  This  is  my  com- 
mandment," says  Christ,  "  that  ye  love  one  another." 
"  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples, 
if  ye  love  one  another."  Our  brethren  in  Christ 
ehould  be  the  first  and  dearest  objects  of  our  regard. 
Love  to  tliem  is  the  badge  of  discipleship— the  proof, 
both  to  ourselves  and  to  the  world,  that  we  have  passed 


11 

from  death  unto  life.  And  although  we  are  "  to  do 
good  to  all  men,"  yet  we  are  especially  to  regard  "  the 
household  of  faith."  But  still,  brotherly  love,  or  the 
love  of  the  brethren  as  such,  is  not  the  disposition,  any 
otherwise  than  as  included  in  it,  which  is  here  en- 
joined. 

A  far  more  comprehensive  duty  is  laid  down,  which 

is  LOVE  TO  MANKIND  IN  GENERAL.       As  a  prOof  of  this 

I  refer  to  the  nature  of  its  exercises.  Do  they  not  as 
much  respect  the  unconverted  as  the  converted ;  the 
unbeliever  as  the  believer  ]  Are  we  not  as  much 
bound  to  be  meek  and  kind,  humble,  forgiving,  and 
patient,  towards  all  men,  as  we  are  towards  our  bre- 
thren 1  Or,  may  we  be  envious,  passionate,  proud, 
and  revengeful,  towards  "those  that  are  without," 
though  not  towards  those  "that  are  within?'  We 
have  only  to  consider  the  operations  and  effects  of  love 
as  here  described,  and  to  recollect  that  they  are  as 
much  required  in  our  intercourse  with  the  world,  as 
with  the  Church,  to  perceive  at  once,  that  it  is  love  to 
man,  as  such,  that  is  the  subject  of  this  chapter.  Nor 
is  this  the  only  place  where  universal  philanthropy  is 
enjoined.  The  Apostle  Peter,  in  his  chain  of  graces, 
makes  this  the  last  link,  and  distinguishes  it  from 
"  brotherly  kindness,"  to  which,  says  he,  add  "  chari- 
ty," or,  as  it  should  be  rendered,  "  love."  The  dis- 
position inculcated  in  this  chapter  is,  that  love  which 
Peter  commands  us  to  add  to  brotherly  kindness  ;  it  is, 
in  fact,  the  very  state  of  mind  which  is  the  compendium 
of  the  second  table  of  the  moral  law,  "  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself." 

The  temper  so  beautifully  set  forth  by  Paul,  is  a 
most  lively,  luminous  and  eloquent  exposition  of  this 
summary  of  duty  to  our  neighbour,  which  is  given  us 
by  our  Lord. 

Strange,  indeed,  would  it  be,  if  Christianity,  the 
most  perfect  system,  of  duty  as  well  as  of  doctrine, 
that  God  ever  gave  to  the  world,  should  contain  no 
injunction  to  cultivate  a  sphit  of  general  good-will. 
Strange,  indeed,  if  that  system,  which  rises  upon  the 


IS 

earth  with  the  smiling  aspect  of  universal  benevolence, 
did  not  breathe  its  own  spirit  into  the  hearts  of  its  be- 
lievers. Strange,  indeed,  if,  while  God  loved  the  world, 
and  Christ  died  for  it,  the  world  in  no  sense  was  to  be  , 
an  object  of  a  Christian's  regard.  Strange,  indeed,  if 
the  energies,  the  exercises,  and  propensities  of  true 
piety,  were  to  be  confined  within  the  narrow  bound- 
aries, of  the  Church,  and  to  be  allowed  no  excursions 
into  the  widely  extended  regions  that  lie  beyond,  and 
have  no  sympathies  for  the  countless  millions  by  which 
these  regions  are  peopled.  It  would  have  been  re- 
garded as  a  blank  in  Christianity, as  a  deep  wide  chasm, 
had  philanthropy  gained  no  place,  or  but  a  small  one,  i 
amidst  its  duties ;  and  such  an  omission  must  ever 
have  presented  a  want  of  harmony  between  its  doc- 
trines and  its  precepts  ;  a  point  of  dissimilarity  between 
the  perfection  of  the  divine,  and  the  required  com- 
pleteness of  the  human,  character.  Here,  then,  is 
the  disposition  inculcated :  a  spirit  of  universal  love ; 
good  will  to  man ;  a  delight  in  human  happiness ;  a 
carefulness  to  avoid  whatever  would  lessen,  and  to  do 
whatever  would  increase,  the  amount  of  the  felicity  of 
mankind :  a  love  that  is  limited  to  no  circle ;  that  is 
restricted  by  no  partialities,  no  friendships,  no  relation- 
ships ;  around  which  neither  prejudices  nor  aversions 
are  allowed  to  draw  a  boundary;  which  realizes,  as  its  ' 
proper  objects,  friends,  strangers,  and  enemies ;  which 
requires  no  recommendation  of  any  one  but  that  he  is 
a  man,  and  which  searches  after  man  wherever  he  is 
to  be  found.  It  is  an  affection  which  binds  its  pos- 
sessor to  all  of  his  kind,  and  makes  him  a  good  citizen 
of  the  universe.  We  must  possess  domestic  affections, 
to  render  us  good  members  of  a  family ;  we  must  haiM|[|^ 
the  more  extended  principles  of  j)atrioti8m,  to  render^ 
us  good  members  of  the  state  ;  and  for  the  same  rea- 
son, we  must  possess  universal  benevolence,  to  render 
us  good  members  of  a  system  which  comprises  the 
whole  human  race.  This  is  the  generic  virtue,  the 
one  simple  principle  out  of  which  so  many  and  such 
beautiful  ramifications  of   holy  benevolence   evolve. 


13 

All  the  actings  of  love,  so  finely  described  by  the  Apos- 
tle, may  be  traced  up  to  this  delight  in  happiness :  they 
all  consist  in  doing  that  which  will  promote  the  comfort 
of  others,  or  in  not  doing  that  which  will  hinder  their 
peace  ; — whether  they  consist  in  passive  or  in  active 
properties,  they  have  a  direct  bearmg  on  general  well- 
being. 

It  will  be  proper  to  remark  here,  that  by  universal 
benevolence,  we  mean  nothing  that  bears  the  most 
distant  resemblance  to  the  spurious  philanthropy  ad- 
vocated some  few  years  since  by  a  school  of  modem 
infidels,  who  resolved  all  virtue  into  a  chimerical  passion 
for  the  public  good ;  and  the  characteristic  feature  of 
whose  system  it  was,  to  build  up  general  benevolence 
on  the  destruction  of  individual  tenderness.  Reason 
and  revelation  unite  in  teaching  us,  that  in  the  de- 
velopement  of  the  passions  we  must  advance  from  the 
private  to  public  affections,  and  that  extended  benevo- 
lence is  the  last  and  most  perfect  fruit  of  individual 
regards. 

But  although  we  represent  this  love  as  consisting  in 
a  principle  of  universal  benevolence,  we  would  remark, 
that  instead  of  satisfying  itself  with  mere  speculations 
on  the  desirableness  of  the  well-being  of  the  whole,  or 
with  mere  good  wishes  for  the  happiness  of  mankind 
in  general ;  instead  of  that  indolent  sentimentalism, 
which  would  convert  its  inability  to  benefit  the  great 
body  into  an  excuse  for  doing  good  to  none  of  its  mem- 
ber ; — it  will  put  forth  its  energies,  and  engage  its  ac- 
tivities, for  those  which  are  within  its  reach  :  it  would, 
if  it  could,  touch  the  extreme  pai-ts  ;  but  as  this  cannot 
be  done,  it  will  exert  a  beneficial  influence  on  those 
which  are  near;  its  very  distance  from  the  circumfer- 
ence will  be  felt  as  a  motive  to  greater  zeal  in  promot- 
ing the  comfort  of  all  that  may  be  contiguous  ;  and  it 
will  consider  that  the  best  and  only  way  of  reaching  the 
last,  is  by  an  impulse  given  to  what  is  next.  It  will 
view  every  individual  it  has  to  do  with  as  a  representa- 
tive of  his  species,  and  consider  him  as  preferring  strong 
claims,  both  on  his  own  account  and  on  the  account  of 

3 


his  race.  Towards  all,  it  will  retain  a  feeling  of  good- 
will, a  preparedness  for  benevolent  activity ;  and  to- 
wards those  who  come  within  the  sphere  of  its  influ- 
ence, it  will  go  forth  in  the  actings  of  kindness.  Like 
the  organ  of  vision,  it  can  dilate,  to  comprehend, 
though  but  dimly,  the  whole  prospect ;  or  it  can  con- 
tract its  view,  and  concentrate  its  attention  upon  each 
individual  object  that  comes  under  its  inspection.  The 
persons  with  whom  we  daily  converse  and  act,  are 
those  on  whom  our  benevolence  is  first  and  most  con- 
stantly to  express  itself,  because  these  are  the  parts  of 
the  whole,  which  give  us  the  opportunity  of  calling 
into  exercise  our  universal  philanthropy.  But  to  them 
it  is  not  to  be  confined,  either  in  feeling  or  action  ;  for, 
as  we  have  opportunity,  we  are  to  do  good  to  all  men, 
and  send  abroad  our  beneficent  regards  to  the  great 
family  of  man. 

Nor  are  we  to  confound  this  virtue  with  a  mere  na- 
tural amiableness  of  disposition.  It  is  often  our  lot  to 
witness  a  species  of  philanthropy  which,  like  the  paint- 
ing or  the  bust,  is  a  very  near  resemblance  of  the  ori- 
ginal ;  but  which  still  is  only  a  picture,  or  a  statue, 
that  wants  the  mysterious  principle  of  life.  From  that 
mere  good-will  to  man,  which  even  unconverted  per- 
sons may  possess,  the  love  described  by  the  Apostle 
differs  in  the  following  particulars. 

1.  It  is  one  of  the  fruits  of  regeneration.  "  The  fruit 
of  the  Spirit  is  love."  Unless  a  man  be  born  of  the 
Spirit,  lie  can  do  nothing  that  is  spiritually  good,  AV^e 
are  by  nature  cormpt  and  unholy — destitute  of  all  love 
to  God — and  till  renewed  by  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the 
spint  of  our  mind,  we  can  do  nothing  well  pleasing  to 
God.  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature ;" 
and  this  love  of  our  species  is  a  part  of  the  new  crea- 
tion. It  is,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  term,  a  holy 
virtue,  and  one  great  branch  of  holiness  itself;  for 
what  is  holiness,  but  love  to  God,  and  love  to  man  1 
And  without  that  previous  change  which  is  denominat- 
ed being  "  born  again,"  we  can  no  more  love  man  as 
we  ought  to  do,  than  we  can  love  God.     Divine  grac« 


IS 

is  as  essentially  necessary  for  the  production  and  the 
exercise  of  philanthropy,  as  it  is  for  piety ;  and  the 
former  is  no  less  a  part  of  religion  than  the  latter. 
Love  is  the  Divine  nature,  the  image  of  God,  which  is 
communicated  to  the  soul  of  man  by  the  renewing  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

2.  This  love  w  the  effect  of  faith  :  hence  it  is  said  by 
the  Apostle,  "  In  Christ  Jesus  neither  circumcision 
availeth  any  thing,  nor  uncircumcision,  but  faith  which 
worketh  hy  love"  And  by  another  inspired  writer,  it  is 
represented  as  a  part  of  the  superstructure  which  is  rais- 
ed on  the  basis  of  faith : — "  Add  to  your  faith — love."  It 
is  certain  that  there  can  be  no  proper  regard  to  man, 
which  does  not  result  from  faith  in  Christ.  It  is  the 
belief  of  the  truth  which  makes  love  to  be  felt  as  a 
duty,  and  which  brings  before  the  mind  the  great  ex- 
amples, the  powerful  motives,  furnished  by  the  Scrip- 
tures to  promote  its  exercise.  Nothing  spiritually  ex- 
cellent can  be  performed  without  faith.  It  is  by  faith 
alone,  that  anything  we  do  is  truly  and  properly  reli- 
gion :  this  is  the  identifying  Christian  principle,  separate 
and  apart  from  which,  whatever  excellence  men  may 
exhibit,  is  but  mere  morality.  By  faith  we  submit  to 
the  authority  of  God's  law ;  by  faith  we  are  united  to 
Christ,  and  "  receive  from  his  fulness  and  grace  for 
grace ;"  by  faith  we  contemplate  the  love  of  God  in 
Christ ;  by  faith  our  conduct  becomes  acceptable  to 
God  through  Christ. 

3.  This  love  is  exercised  in  obedience  to  the  autftority 
of  God's  word.  It  is  a  principle,  not  merely  a  feeling; 
it  is  cultivated  and  exercised  as  a  duty,  not  yielded  to 
merely  as  a  generous  instinct ;  it  is  a  submission  to 
God's  command,  not  merely  an  indulgence  of  our  own 
propensities;  it  is  the  constraint  of  conscience,  not 
merely  the  impulse  of  constitutional  tenderness.  It 
may  be,  and  often  is,  found  where  there  is  no  natural 
softness  or  amiableness  of  temper:  where  this  exists, 
it  will  grow  with  greater  rapidity,  and  expand  to  greater 
magnitude,  and  flourish  in  greater  beauty,  like  the 
mountain  ash  in  the  rich  mould  of  the  valley ;  but  it 


u 

still  may  be  planted,  like  that  noble  tree,  in  a  less  con- 
genial situation,  and  thrive,  in  obedience  to  the  law  of 
its  nature,  amidst  barrenness  and  rocks.  Multitudes, 
who  have  nothing  of  sentimentalism  in  their  nature, 
have  love  to  man  ;  they  rarely  can  melt  into  tears,  or 
kindle  into  rapture — but  they  can  be  all  energy  and 
activity  for  the  relief  of  misery,  and  for  the  promotion 
of  human  happiness  :  their  temperament  of  mind  par- 
takes more  of  the  frigid  than  of  the  torrid,  and  their 
summer  seasons  of  the  soul  are  short  and  cold ;  but 
still,  amidst  their  mild  and  even  lovely  winter,  charity, 
like  the  rose  of  Paestum,  blooms  in  fi-agrance  and  in 
beauty.  This  is  their  motto — "  God  has  commanded 
me  to  love  my  neighbour  as  myself;  and  in  obedience 
to  him  I  restrain  my  natural  tendency,  and  forgive  the 
injuries,  and  relieve  the  miserieSj  and  build  up  the  com- 
fort, and  hide  the  faults,  of  all  around  me." 

4.  It  is  founded  upon^  and  grmcs  out  of  love  to  God. 
We  are  to  love  God  for  his  own  sake,  and  men  for 
God's  sake.  Our  Lord  has  laid  down  this  as  the  order 
and  rule  of  our  affections.  We  must  first  love  God 
with  all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  then  our 
neighbour  as  ourselves.  Now,  there  can  be  no  proper 
religious  affection  for  our  neighbour,  which  does  not 
spring  out  of  supreme  regard  for  Jehovah  ;  since  our 
love  to  our  neighbour  must  respect  him  as  the  ollsprmg 
and  workmanship  of  God  :  "  and  if  we  love  not  him 
that  begat,  how  can  we  love  him  that  is  begotten  of 
him  ?"  Besides,  as  we  are  to  exercise  this  disposition 
in  obedience  to  the  authority  of  God,  and  as  no  obedi- 
ence to  his  authority  can  be  valuable  in  itself,  or  accept- 
able to  him,  which  is  not  an  operation  of  love,  no  kind- 
ness to  our  neighbour  can  come  up  to  the  nature  of  the 
duty  here  enjoined,  which  does  not  arise  out  of  a  pro- 
per state  of  heart  towards  God.  We  love  any  thing 
more  truly  and  properly,  the  more  explicitly  we  acknow- 
ledge and  love  Gocl  in  it ;  upon  the  view  of  those  strokes 
and  lineaments  of  the  divine  beauty,  and  the  characters 
of  his  glory,  which  are  discernible  in  all  his  creatures, 
our  love  should  someway  be  commensurate  with  the 


IT 

occasion,  and  comprehend  the  universe  in  its  large  and 
complacential  embraces.  Though,  as  any  thing  is  of 
higher  excellency,  and  hath  more  lively  touches  and 
resemblances  of  God  upon  it,  or,  by  the  disposition  of 
his  providence  and  law,  more  nearly  approaches  us, 
and  is  more  immediately  presented  to  our  notice,  con- 
verse, use,  or  engagement ;  so  our  love  should  be  to- 
wards it  more  explicitly,  in  a  higher  degree,  or  with 
more  frequency.  As  man,  therefore,  hath  in  him  more 
of  divine  resemblance  of  God's  natural  likeness  and 
image — ^good  men,  of  his  moral  holy  image — we  ought 
to  love  men  more  than  the  inferior  creatures,  and  those 
that  are  good  and  holy  more  than  other  men ;  and 
those  with  whom  we  are  more  concerned,  with  a  more 
definitive  love,  and  which  is  required  to  be  more  fre- 
quent in  its  exercise :  but  all  from  the  attractive  of 
somewhat  divine  appearing  in  the  object.  So  that  all 
rational  love,  or  that  is  capable  of  being  regulated  and 
measured  by  a  law,  is  only  so  far  right  in  its  own  kind, 
as  we  love  God  in  everything,  and  everything  upon  his 
account,  and  for  his  sake.  The  nature  and  spirit  of 
man  is,  by  the  apostacy,  become  disaffected  and  strange 
to  God — alienated  from  the  divine  life — addicted  to  a 
particular  limited  good,  to  the  creature  for  itself,  apart 
from  God ;  whereupon  the  things  men  love  are  their 
idols,  and  men's  love  is  idolatry.  But  when,  by  rege- 
neration, a  due  propension  towards  God  is  restored, 
the  universal  good  draws  their  minds ;  they  become 
inclined  and  enlarged  towards  it ;  and,  as  that  is  diffused, 
their  love  follows  it,  and  flows  towards  it  everywhere. 
They  love  all  things  principally  in  and  for  God  ;  and 
therefore  such  men  most,  as  excel  in  goodness,  and  in 
whom  the  Divine  image  more  brightly  shines.* 

Let  us,  then,  remember  that  the  beautiful  superstruc- 
ture of  philanthropy,  which  the  Apostle  has  raised  in 
this  chapter,  has  for  its  foundation  a  supreme  regard 
for  the  great  and  blessed  God.  The  utmost  kindness 
and  sympathy ;  the   most  tender  compassion,  united 

*  HowB  on  Charity  in  Keference  to  other  Men's  Sins. 

3* 


with  the  most  munificent  liberality  ;  if  it  do  not  rest  on 
the  love  of  God,  is  not  the  temper  here  set  forth — is 
not  the  grace  which  has  the  principle  of  immortality 
in  its  nature,  and  which  will  live  and  flourish  in  eternity, 
when  faith  and  hope  shall  cease.  Human  excellence, 
however  distinguished,  whatever  good  it  may  diffuse 
upon  others,  or  whatever  glory  it  may  draw  around 
itself,  if  it  be  not  sanctified  and  supported  by  this  holy 
principle,  is  corruptible  and  mortal,  and  cannot  dwell 
in  the  presence  of  God,  nor  exist  amidst  the  glories 
of  eternity  ;  but  is  only  the  flower  of  the  grass  which 
shall  wither  away  in  the  rebuke  of  the  Almight)'.  For 
want  of  this  vital  and  essential  principle  of  all  true  reli- 
gion, how  much  of  amiable  compassion,  and  of  tender 
attention  to  the  woes  of  humanity — how  much  of 
kindly  feeling  and  active  benevolence, — is  daily  ex- 
pended, which,  while  it  yields  its  amiable  though  unre- 
newed professor  much  honour  and  delight,  has  not  the 
weight  of  a  feather  in  the  scales  of  his  eternal  destiny. 

5.  T/iis  disposhion  is  cherished  in  our  heart  by  a  sense 
of  God's  love  in  Christ  Jesus  to  us. 

There  is  this  peculiarity  in  the  morality  of  the  New 
Testament; — it  is  not  only  enforced  by  the  considera- 
tion of  Divine  power,  but  by  a  distinct  and  repeated 
reference  to  Divine  goodness.  Not  that  any  motive  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  make  a  command  binding  upon 
our  conscience,  beyond  God's  right  to  issue  it ;  the  ob- 
ligation to  duty  is  complete,  in  the  absence  of  every 
other  consideration  than  the  rightful  authority  of  the 
command:  but  as  man  is  a  creature  capable  of  being 
moved  by  appeals  to  his  gratitude,  as  well  as  by  motives 
addressed  to  his  fear,  it  is  both  wise  and  condescending, 
on  the  part  of  Jehovah,  thus  to  deal  with  him,  and  to 
"  make  him  xcillin^  in  the  day  of  his  power."  He  thus 
not  only  drives  us  by  the  force  of  his  terrors,  but  draws 
us  by  the  cords  of  his  love. 

The  great  evangelical  inducement  to  mutual  affec- 
tion between  man  and  man,  is  God's  love  in  Christ 
Jesus  to  us.  God  has  commende«l  and  manifested  his 
love  to  us  in  a  manner  that  will  fill  immensity  and  eter- 


nity  with  astonishment :  He  has  "  so  loved  the  world 
as  to  give  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  be- 
lieveth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."  This  stupendous  exhibition  of  Divine  mercy  is 
presented  by  the  sacred  writers,  not  only  as  a  source 
of  strong  consolation,  but  also  as  a  powerful  motive  to 
action  ;  we  are  not  only  to  contemplate  it  for  the  pur- 
pose of  joy,  but  also  of  imitation.  Mark  the  beautiful 
reasoning  of  the  apostle  John — "  Herein  is  love,  not 
that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his 
Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.  Beloved,  if 
God  so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to  love  one  another." 
Similar  to  this  is  also  the  inference  of  Paul — "  And  be 
ye  kind  one  to  another,  tender-hearted,  forgiving  one 
another,  even  as  God  for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven 
you.  Be  ye  therefore  followers  (imitators)  of  God,  as 
dear  children,  and  walk  in  love  as  Christ  who  hath 
loved  us,  and  hath  given  himself  for  us  an  offering  and 
a  sacrifice  to  God,  for  a  sweet  smelling  savour."  How 
forcible,  yet  how  tender,  is  such  language  !  there  is  a 
charm  in  such  a  motive,  which  no  terms  can  describe. 
The  love  of  God,  then,  in  its  existence  and  arrange- 
ments from  eternity  ;  in  its  manifestation  in  time  by  the 
cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  in  its  topless  height, 
its  fathomless  depth,  its  measureless  length  and  breadth ; 
— is  the  grand  inducement  to  universal  affection :  and 
is  it  not  enough  to  soften  a  heart  of  stone — to  melt  a 
heart  of  ice  ]  The  love  spoken  of  in  the  chapter  under 
consideration,  is  that  impulse  towards  our  fellow-men 
which  is  given  us  by  the  cross  of  Christ :  it  is  not  mere 
natural  kindness,  but  it  is  love  for  Christ's  sake  ;  it  is 
not  the  mere  operations  of  a  generous  temper,  but  it  is 
the  feeling  which  moved  in  the  Apostle's  breast,  when 
he  exclaimed,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us;" 
it  is  not  natural  religion,  but  Christianity;  it  is,  so  to 
speak,  a  plant  which  grows  on  Calvary,  and  ent^vines 
itself  for  support  around  the  cross.  It  is  a  disposition 
which  argues  in  this  way :  "Has  God  indeed  thus  loved 
me,  so  as  to  give  his  Son  for  my  salvation  1  and  is  he 
kind  to  me  daily  for  the  sake  of  Christ  1     Has  he  for- 


given  all  my  numberless  and  aggravated  transgressions  t 
Does  he  still,  vi^ith  infinite  patience,  bear  with  all  my 
infirmities  and  provocations  1  Then  what  is  there,  in 
the  way  of  most  generous  affection,  I  ought  not  to  be 
willing  to  do,  or  to  bear,  or  to  sacrifice,  for  others?  Do 
they  offend  me,  let  me  bear  with  them,  and  forgive  them ; 
for  how  has  God  forborne  with  me,  and  blotted  out  my 
sins  1  Do  they  want,  let  me  be  forward  lo  supply  their 
necessities  ;  for  how  has  God  supplied  mine  !"  Here, 
then,  is  love — that  deep  sense  of  God's  love  to  us,  which 
shows  us  the  necessity,  the  reasonableness,  the  duty, 
of  being  kind  to  others  ;  the  feeling  of  a  heart,  which, 
labouring  under  the  weight  of  its  obligations  to  God, 
and  finding  itself  too  poor  to  extend  its  goodness  to 
him,  looks  round,  and  gives  utterance  to  its  exuberant 
gratitude  in  acts  of  kindness  to  man. 

6.  It  u  that  goodwill  to  man  whkh,  while  its  proxi- 
mate object  is  the  welfare  of  our  fellow-creatures,  is  tUti' 
mately  directed  to  the  glory  of  God. 

It  is  the  sublime  characteristic  of  every  truly  Christian 
virtue,  that  whatever  inferior  ends  it  may  seek,  and 
through  whatever  intervening  medium  it  may  pass,  it  is 
directed  ultimately  to  the  praise  of  Jehovah :  it  may 
put  forth  its  excellencies  before  the  admiring  eyes  of 
mortals,  and  exert  its  energies  for  their  happiness ;  but 
neither  to  attract  their  applause,  nor  to  build  up  their 
interests,  must  be  its  highest  aim.  The  rule  of  our 
conduct,  as  to  its  chief  end,  is  thus  explicitly  and  com- 
prehensively laid  down  :  "  Whether  therefore  ye  eat 
or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God."  This  is  not  mere  advice,  but  a  command — and 
it  is  a  command  extending  to  all  our  conduct.  To 
glorify  God  is  to  act  so  as  that  his  authority  shall  be 
recognized  and  upheld  by  us  in  the  world  ;  it  is  to  be 
seen  submitting  to  his  will,  and  behaving  so  as  that  his 
word  and  ways  shall  be  better  thought  of  by  man- 
kind. Our  actions  must  appear  to  have  a  reference 
to  God  ;  and  without  this,  they  cannot  partake  of  the 
character  of  religion,  however  excellent  and  beneficial 
they  may  seem. 


21 

But  perhaps  this  disposition  of  mind  will  be  best 
illustrated  by  exhibiting  an  example  of  it ;  and  where 
shall  we  find  one  suited  to  our  purpose  1  Every  mind 
will  perhaps  immediately  revert  to  Him  who  was  love 
incarnate  ;  and  we  might  indeed  point  to  every  action 
of  his  benevolent  career  as  a  display  of  the  purest 
philanthropy  :  but  as  his  example  Avill  hereafter  be 
considered,  we  shall  now  select  one  from  men  of  like 
passions  with  ourselves  ;  but  we  must  go  for  it  to  "  the 
chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate,"  rather 
than  to  the  resorts  of  the  healthy  and  the  active  ;  for 
it  seems  as  if  the  brightest  beauties  of  this  love  were 
reserved,  like  those  of  the  setting  sun,  for  the  eve  of 
its  departure  to  another  hemisphere.  How  often  have 
we  beheld  the  dying  Christian,  who,  during  long  and 
mortal  sickness,  has  exhibited,  as  he  stood  on  the  verge 
of  heaven,  something  of  the  spirit  of  a  glorified  im- 
mortal. The  natural  infirmities  of  temper,  which  at- 
tended him  through  life,  and  which  sometimes  dimmed 
the  lustre  of  his  piety,  disquieted  his  own  peace,  and 
lessened  the  pleasure  of  his  friends,  had  &11  departed, 
or  had  sunk  into  ^he  shade  of  those  holy  graces  which 
then  stood  out  in  bold  and  commanding  relief  upon 
his  soul.  The  beams  of  heaven  now  falling  upon  his 
spirit  were  reflected,  not  only  in  the  faith  that  is  the 
confidence  of  things  not  seen — not  only  in  the  hope 
which  entereth  within  the  vail, — ^but  in  the  love  which 
is  the  greatest  in  the  trinity  of  Christian  virtues.  How 
lowly  in  heart  did  he  seem — how  entirely  clothed  with 
humility  !  Instead  of  being  puffed  up  with  anything  of 
his  own,  or  uttering  a  single  boasting  expression,  it  was 
like  a  wound  in  his  heart  to  hear  any  one  remind  him 
either  of  his  good  deeds  or  dispositions ;  and  he  ap- 
peared in  his  own  eyes  less  than  ever,  while,  like  his 
emblem,  the  setting  sun,  he  expanded  every  moment 
into  greater  magnitude  in  the  view  of  every  spectator. 
Instead  of  envying  the  possessions  or  the  excellencies 
of  other  men,  it  was  a  cordial  to  his  departing  spirit 
that  he  was  leaving  them  thus  distinguished  :  how  kind 
was  he  to  his  friends ! — and  as  for  enemies,  he  had 


none  ;  enmity  had  died  in  his  heart,  he  foi^ve  all  that 
was  manifestly  evil,  and  kindly  interpreted  all  that  was 
only  equivocally  so.  Nothing  lived  in  his  recollection, 
as  to  the  conduct  of  others,  hut  their  acts  of  kindness. 
When  intelligence  reached  his  ear  of  the  misconduct 
of  those  who  had  been  his  adversaries,  he  grieved  in 
spirit,  even  as  he  rejoiced  when  told  of  their  coming 
back  to  public  esteem  by  deeds  of  excellence.  His 
very  opinions  seemed  under  the  influence  of  his  love  ; 
and,  as  he  wished  well,  he  believed  well,  or  hoped  well, 
of  many  of  whom  he  had  formerly  thought  evil.  His 
meekness  and  patience  were  touching,  his  kindness 
indescribable  ;  the  trouble  he  gave,  and  the  favours  he 
received,  drew  tears  from  his  own  eyes,  and  were  ac- 
knowledged in  expressions  that  drew  tears  from  all 
around.  There  was  an  ineffable  tenderness  in  his 
looks,  and  his  words  were  the  very  accents  of  benigni- 
ty. He  lay  a  pattern  of  all  the  passive  virtues ;  and 
having  thus  thrown  off  much  that  was  of  the  earth, 
earthly,  aiid  put  on  charity  as  a  garment,  and  dressed 
himself  for  heaven,  in  its  ante-chamber,  his  sick  room, 
he  departed  to  be  with  Christ,  and  to  be  for  ever  per- 
fect in  lore. 

There  was  a  man  in  whom  this  was  realized,  and 
some  extracts  from  his  invaluable  Memoir  will  prove 
it;  I  mean  Mr.  Scott,  the  author  of  the  Commentary. 

"  His  mind,"  says  his  biographer,  "dwelt  much  upon 
love  :  God  is  love,  and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth 
in  God,  and  God  in  him.  Faith  worketh  by  love.  He 
seemed  full  of  tenderness  and  affection  to  all  around 
him.  *  One  evidence,'  he  said,  '  I  have  of  meetness 
for  heaven  :  I  feel  much  love  to  all  mankind — to  every 
man  \ipon  earth — ^to  those  who  have  most  opposed  and 
slandered  me,'  To  his  servant  he  said,  '  1  thank  you 
for  all  your  kindness  to  me,  If  at  any  time  I  have 
been  hasty  and  short,  forgive  me,  and  pray  to  God 
to  forgive  me ;  but  lay  the  blame  upon  wc,  not  upon 
religion.'" 

"  His  tender  affection  for  us  all  is  astonishing  in  such 
a  ftate  of  extreme  suffering,  and  cuts  us  to  the  heart. 


23 

He  begged  his  curate  to  forgive  him,  if  he  had  been 
occasionally  rough  and  sharp.     '  I  meant  it  for  your 
good,  but,  like  every  thing  of  mine,  it  was  mixed  with 
sin ;  impute  it  not,  however,  to  my  religion,  but  to  my 
want  of  religion.'     He  is  so  gentle  and  loving — it  is  so 
deUghtful  to  attend  upon  him, — that  his  sei-vants,  find- 
ing themselves  in  danger  of  contention  which  should 
wait  upon  him,  agreed  to  take  it  by  turns,  that  each 
might  have  her  due  share  of  the  pleasure  and  benefit ; 
and  yet  he  is  continually  begging  our  forgiveness  for 
his  want  of  patience  and  thankfulness.     His  kindness 
and  affection  to  all  who  approached  him  were  carried 
to  the  greatest  height,  and  showed  themselves  in  a  sin- 
gularly minute  attention  to  all  their  feelings,  and,  what- 
ever might  be  for  their  comfort,  to  a  degree  that  was 
quite  affecting — especially  when  he  was  suffering  so 
much  himself,  often  in  mind  as  well  as  body.     There 
was  an  astonishing  absence  of  selfish  feelings :   even  in 
his  worst  hours  he  thought  of  the  health  of  us  all; 
observed  if  we  sat  up  long,  and  insisted  on  our  retiring ; 
and  was  much  afraid  of  paining  or  hurting  us  in  any 
way.     Mr.  D.  said  something  on  the  permanency  of 
his  Commentary  ;    '  Ah  !'  he  cried,  with  a  semi-con- 
temptuous smile  ;   and  added,  *  you  know  not  what  a 
proud  heart  I  have,  and  how  you  help  the  Devil.'     He 
proceeded :     '  There  is  one  feeling  I  cannot  have,  if  I 
would :  those   that  have  opposed  my  doctrine,  have 
slandered  me  sadly;  but  I  cannot  feel  any  resentment; 
I  can  only  love  and  pity  them,  and  pray  for  their  salva- 
tion.    I  never  did  feel  any  resentment  towards  them ; 
I  only  regret  that  I  did  not  more  ardently  long  and  pray 
for  their  salvation.' — This  is  love,  and  how  lovely  is  it !" 
Can  we  conceive  of  a  more  beautiful  exempMcation 
of  the  virtue  I  am  describing  1   and  this  is  the  temper 
we  ought  all  to  seek.     This  is  the  grace,  blended  with 
all  our  living  habits,  diffused  through  all  our  conduct, 
forming  our  character,  breathing  in  our  desires,  speak- 
ing in  our  words,  beaming  in  our  eyes ;    in  short,  a 
living  part  of  our  living  selves.     And  thiSf  be  it  remem- 
bered, is  religion — ^practical  religion. 


u 


CHAPTER  III. 


CHRISTIAN  LOVE  IS  NOT  TO  BE  CONFOUNDED  WITH 
THAT  SPURIOUS  CANDOUR  WHICH  CONSISTS  IN 
INDIFFERENCE  TO  RELIGIOUS  SENTIMENT,  OR  IN 
CONNIVANCE    AT    SINFUL    PRACTICES. 


A  SEPARATE  and  entire  section  is  devoted  to  this 
distinction  of  love  from  a  counterfeit  resemblance  of 
it,  because  of  the  importance  of  the  subject,  and  the 
frequency  with  which  the  mistake  is  made  of  confound- 
ing things  which  are  so  different  from  each  other.  No 
terms  have  been  more  misunderstsod  or  abused  than 
candour  and  charity.  Some  have  found  in  them  an 
act  of  toleration  for  all  religious  opinions,  however  op- 
posed to  one  another  or  to  the  word  of  God,  and  a  bull 
of  indulgences  for  all  sinful  practices  which  do  not 
transgress  the  laws  of  our  country:  so  that,  by  the 
aid  of  these  two  words,  all  truth  and  hoUness  may  be 
driven  out  of  the  world ;  for  if  error  be  innocent,  truth 
must  be  unimportant;  and  if  we  are  to  be  indulgent 
towards  the  sins  of  others,  under  the  sanction  and  by 
the  command  of  Scripture,  holiness  can  be  of  no  con- 
sequence either  to  them  or  ourselves. 

If  we  were  to  hearken  to  some,  we  should  conceive 
of  Charity,  not  as  she  really  is — a  spirit  of  ineffable 
beauty,  descending  from  heaven  upon  our  distracted 


25 

earth,  holding  in  her  hand  the  torch  of  truth,  which  she 
had  lighted  at  the  fountain  of  celestial  radiance,  and 
clad  in  a  vest  of  unsullied  purity ;  and  who,  as  she 
entered  upon  the  scene  of  discord,  proclaimed  "  glory- 
to  God  in  the  highest,"  as  well  as,  "  peace  on  earth, 
good-will  to  men :"  and  having  with  these  magic  words 
healed  the  troubled  waters  of  strife,  proceeding  to  draw 
men  closer  to  each  other,  by  drawing  them  closer  to 
Christ,  the  common  centre  of  believers;  and  then 
hushing  the  clamours  of  contention,  by  removing  the 
pride,  the  ignorance,  and  the  depravity,  which  produced 
them.*  No:  but  we  should  think  of  her  as  a  lying 
spirit — clad,  indeed,  in  some  of  the  attire  of  an  angel 
of  light,  but  bearing  no  heavenly  impress,  holding  no 
torch  of  truth,  wearing  no  robe  of  holiness ;  smiling 
perhaps,  but  like  a  sycophant,  upon  all  without  distinc- 
tion ;  calling  upon  men,  as  they  are  combating  for 
truth  and  striving  against  sin,  to  sheathe  their  swords 
and  cast  away  their  shields,  to  be  indulgent  towards 
each  other's  vices  and  tolerant  of  each  other's  errors ; 
because  they  all  mean  and  feel  substantially  alike, 
though  they  have  different  modes  of  expressing  their 
opinions  and  of  giving  utterance  to  their  feelings.  Is 
this  charity? — No;  it  is  Satan  in  the  habiliments  of 
Gabriel. 

That  there  is  much  of  this  spurious  candour  in  the 
world,  and  that  it  is  advocated  by  great  names,  will 
appear  by  the  following  quotation  from  Dr.  Priestley  : 
— "If  we  could  be  so  happy,  as  to  believe  that  there 

♦  An  Anonymous  American  writer  has  given  the  following  eloquent 
description. 

"  Her  throne  seemed  ivory,  and  over  her  white  robes  floated  an 
azure  mantle  besprinkled  with  drops  of  heavenly  lusture.  On  her  head 
was  a  chaplet  of  such  flowers  as  spring  in  the  regions  of  bliss ;  and 
the  summit  of  the  diadem,  was  distinguished  by  a  centre  of  rays  that 
resembled  the  morning  star.  The  bloom  of  eternal  youth  was  in  her 
countenance,  but  her  majestic  form  can  only  be  described  in  the  lan- 
guage of  that  world  where  she  is  fully  known.  In  her  right  hand  was 
"  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,"  and  at  her  side  the  symbols  of  power  and 
majesty.  Beneath  her  feet  the  clouds  were  condensed  in  awful  dark- 
ness, and  her  chariot  was  borne  along  by  the  breath  of  the  Aliliie-hty.'' 
(A.  E.) 

4 


26 

are  no  errors  but  what  men  may  be  so  circumstanced 
as  to  be  innocently  betrayed  into ;  that  any  mistake  of 
the  head  is  very  consistent  with  rectitude  of  heart ; 
and  that  all  differences  in  modes  of  worship  may  be 
only  the  different  methods  by  which  different  men, 
who  are  equally  the  offspring  of  God,  are  endeavour- 
ing to  honour  and  obey  their  common  parent ;— our 
difference  of  opinion  would  have  no  tendency  to  lessen 
our  mutual  love  and  esteem,"  Dr.  Priestley,  and  the 
followers  of  his  religious  system,  are  not  peculiar  in 
this  sentiment.  Pope's  Universal  Prayer  is  to  the 
same  effect. 

,  .     "  Father  of  all,  in  every  age, 
In  every  clime  adored, 
By  saint,  by  savage,  or  by  sage, 
Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord.'' 

The  well-known  metrical  adage  of  this  poet  is 
adapted,  to  the  full  extent  of  its  spirit  and  design,  by 
great  multitudes  who  suppose  that  they  are  quite  ortho- 
dox both  in  opinion  and  practice,  and  who  perhaps 
boast  of  their  charity,  while  they  exclaim — 

"For modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight ; 
His  can't  be  wrong,  whose  life  is  in  the  right." 

It  is,  I  iipagine,  generally  thought,  by  at  least  a  great 
part  of  mankind,  that  it  is  of  little  consequence  what 
a  man's  religious  opinions  are,  provided  his  conduct  be 
tolerably  correct;  that  charity  requires  us  to  think  well 
of  his  state  ;  and  that  it  is  the  very  essence  of  bigotry 
to  question  the  validity  of  his  claim  to  the  character  of 
a  Christian,  or  to  doubt  of  the  safety  of  his  soul ;  in 
other  words,  it  is  pretended  that  benevolence  requires 
us  to  think  well  of  men,  irrespective  of  religious  opin- 
ions ;  and  that  it  is  almost  a  violation  of  the  rule  of 
love  to  attempt  to  unsettle  their  convictions  or  to  ren- 
der them  uneasy  in  the  possession  of  their  sentiments, 
although  we  may  conclude  them  to  be  fundamentally 
wrong.     But  does  this  disregard  of  all  opmions, — at 


27 

least,  this  disposition  to  think  well  of  persons  as  to  their 
religious  character,  and  the  safety  of  their  souls,  what- 
ever may  be  the  doctrines  they  hold, — enter  essentially 
into  the  nature  of  love  ?  Most  certainly  not ;  but  ac- 
tually opposes  it.  Benevolence  is  good  will  to  men, 
but  this  is  a  very  different  thing  from  a  good  opinion  of 
their  principles  and  practices ;  so  different,  that  the 
former  may  not  only  exist  in  all  its  force  without  the 
latter,  but  be  actually  incompatible  with  it ;  for  if  I 
believe  that  a  man  holds  opinions  that  endanger  his 
safety,  benevolence  requires,  not  that  I  should  shut  my 
eyes  to  his  danger,  and  lull  him  into  false  confidence, 
but  that  I  should  bear  my  testimony  and  express  my 
fears  concerning  his  situation.  Benevolence  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  complacency  or  esteem.  These 
are  founded  on  approbation  of  character ;  the  other  is 
nothing  more  than  a  desire  to  promote  happiness. 

The  question,  whether  love  is  to  be  confounded  with 
indifference  to  religious  principle, — for  such  does  the 
spurious  candour  I  am  contending  against  amount  to, 
— is  best  decided  by  an  appeal  to  Scripture.  "Ye 
shall  know  the  truth,"  said  Christ ;  "and  the  truth  shall 
make  you  free."  "  This  is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee, 
the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  has 
sent."  "He  that  believeth  on  the  Son,  hath  everlast- 
ing life  ;  and  he  that  believeth  not  the  Son,  shall  not  see 
life,  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him."  With 
what  emphasis  did  the  Apostle  speak  of  the  conduct  of 
those  who  attempted  to  pervert  the  great  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith,  by  introducing  the  obsolete  cere- 
monies of  the  Jewish  law.  "  But  though  we,  or  an 
angel  from  heaven,  preach  any  other  Gospel  unto  you 
than  that  which  we  have  preached  unto  you,  let  him  be 
accursed.  As  we  said  before,  so  say  I  now  again,  if 
any  preach  any  other  Gospel  unto  you  than  that  ye 
have  received,  let  him  be  accursed."  Now,  certainly, 
this  is  anything  but  indifference  to  religious  opinion ; 
for,  be  it  observed,  it  was  matter  of  opinion,  and  not 
the  duties  of  morality,  or  of  practical  religion,  that  was 
here  so  strenuously  opposed.     The  Apostle  commands 


Timothy  "to  hold  fast  the  form  of  sound  words  ;  and 
to  give  himself  to  doctrine."  The  Apostle  John  has 
this  strong  language  : — "  Whosoever  transgresseth,  and 
abideth  not  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  hath  not  God. 
He  that  abideth  in  the  doctrine,  of  Christ,  he  hath  both 
the  Father  and  the  Son.  If  there  come  any  unto  you, 
and  bring  not  this  doctrine,  receive  him  not  into  your 
house,  neither  bid  him  God  speed  ;  for*tre  that  biddeth 
him  God  speed,  is  partaker  of  his  evil  deeds."  Jude 
commands  us  to  "  contend  earnestly  for  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints."  From  these,  and  many  other 
passages  which  might  be  quoted,  it  is  evident,  not  only 
that  truth  is  important  and  necessary  to  salvation,  but 
that  error  is  guilty,  and  in  many  instances  is  connected 
with  the  loss  of  the  soul.  "  If  a  man  may  disbelieve 
Ghe  truth,  and  yet  be  free  from  sin  for  so  doing,  he  may 
disbelieve  two  ;  and  if  two,  four ;  and  if  four,  ten  ;  and 
if  ten,  half  the  Bible  ;  and  if  half  the  Bible,  the  whole, 
and  if  he  may  be  a  Deist,  and  yet  be  in  a  safe  state  ; 
he  may  be  an  Atheist  and  still  go  to  heaven."  To 
such  awful  lengths  may  the  principle  be  pushed,  that 
there  is  no  guilt  in  mental  error.  "Let  those,"  says 
Dr.  Priestley,  "who  maintain  that  the  mere  holding 
of  opinions  (without  regard  to  the  motives  and  state -of 
the  mind  through  which  men  mj\yvhave  been  led  to 
form  them,)  will  necessarily  ex.^de  them  from  the 
/avour  of  God,  be  particularly  careful  with  respect  to 
the  premises  from  which  they  draw  so  alarming  a  con- 
clusion." Nothing  can  be  more  sophistical  than  this 
passage;  for  we  do  not  in  maintaining  the  guiltiness 
of  a  false  opinion,  leave  out  the  state  of  the  heart ;  but 
contend  that  all  errors  in  the  judgement  have  their  ori- 
gin in  the  depravity  of  our  nature,  and,  in  so  fur  as  they 
prevail,  discover  a  heart  not  brought  into  subjection  to 
Christ.  A  perfectly  holy  mind  could  not  cit  in  the 
opinion  it  derived  from  the  word  of  God  :  and  it  may 
be  most  fairly  presumed  that  there  are  certain  funda- 
mental truths,  which  cannot  be  rejected,  without  such 
a  degree  of  depravity  of  heart,  as  is  utterly  incompati- 
ble with  true  piety  towards  God. 


29 

It  is  to  be  recollected,  that  the  holiness  required  in 
the  word  of  God,  is  a  very  superior  thing  to  what  is 
called  morality.  Holiness  is  a  right  state  of  mind  to- 
wards God,  and  it  is  enforced  by  motives  drawn  from 
the  view  which  the  Scriptures  give  us  of  the  Divine 
nature,  and  of  the  Divine  conduct  towards  us.  If  our 
views  of  God,  and  of  his  scheme  of  mercy,  be  incor- 
rect, the  motives  which  influence  us  cannot  be  correct. 
Hence  all  right  feeling  and  conduct  are  traced  up  by  the 
sacred  writers  to  the  truth.  Do  they  speak  of  regen- 
eration "?  they  tell  us  we  are  "  begotten  by  the  incor- 
ruptible seed  of  the  word."  Do  they  speak  of  sancti- 
fication?  they  ascribe  it,  so  far  as  instrumentality  is  con- 
cerned, to  the  truth;  and  the  truth  itself  is  character- 
ized as  a  "  doctrine  according  to  godliness."  It  is 
evident,  that  without  the  truth,  or,  in  other  words, 
without  right  opinions,  we  can  neither  be  born  again 
of  the  Spirit,  nor  partake  of  true  holiness.  The  whole 
process  of  practical  and  experimental  religion  is  car- 
ried on  by  the  instrumentality  of  right  sentiments  ;  and 
to  suppose  that  holiness  could  be  produced  in  the  soul 
as  well  by  error  as  by  truth,  is  not  only  contrary  to 
revelation,  but  no  less  contrary  to  reason.  If  truth 
sanctify,  error  must  in  some  way  or  other  pollute  ;  for 
to  suppose  that  two  causes,  not  only  so  distinct  but  so 
opposite,  can  produce  the  same  effect,  is  absurd ;  and 
the  Scriptures  everywhere  insist  upon  the  importance 
of  the  truth,  not  merely  on  its  own  account,  but  on 
account  of  its  moral  effect  upon  the  soul. 

If  this  view  of  the  subject  be  correct.  Christian 
charity  cannot  mean  indifference  to  religious  sentiment ; 
for  if  so,  it  would  be  a  temper  of  mind  in  direct  oppo- 
sition to  a  large  portion  of  Scripture :  nor  are  we  re- 
quired, by  this  virtue,  to  give  the  least  countenance  to 
what  we  think  is  error.  We  may,  indeed,  be  called 
bigots  ;  for  this  term,  in  the  lips  of  many,  means  nothing 
more  than  a  reproach  for  attaching  importance  to  right 
sentiments.  No  word  has  been  more  misunderstood 
than  this.  If  by  bigotry  is  meant  such  an  overweening 
attachment  to  our  opinions,  as  makes  us  refuse  to  listen 
4* 


30 

to  argument ;  such  a  blind  regard  to  our  own  views,  as 
closes  the  avenues  of  conviction ;  such  a  selfish  zeal 
for  our  creed,  as  actually  destroys  benevolence,  and 
causes  us  to  hate  those  who  differ  from  us ; — it  is  an  evil 
state  of  mind,  manifestly  at  variance  with  love  :  but  if, 
as  is  generally  the  case,  it  means,  by  those  who  use  it, 
only  zeal  for  truth,  it  is  perfectly  consistent  with  love, 
and  actually  a  part  of  it ;  for  "  charity  rejoiceth  in  the 
truth."  It  is  quite  compatible  with  good  will  to  men, 
therefore,  to  attach  high  importance  to  doctrines,  to 
condemn  error,  to  deny  the  Christianity  and  safety  of 
those  who  withhold  their  assent  from  fundamental  truths, 
and  to  abstain  from  all  such  religious  communion  with 
them  as  would  imply,  in  the  least  possible  degree,  any 
thing  like  indifference  to  opinion.  It  does  appear  to 
me,  that  the  most  perfect  benevolence  to  men,  is  that 
which,  instead  of  looking  with  complacency  on  their 
errors,  warns  them  of  their  danger,  and  admonishes 
them  to  escape.  It  is  no  matter  that  they  think  they 
are  in  the  right — this  only  makes  their  case  the  more 
alarming ;  and  to  act  towards  them  as  if  we  thought 
their  mistaken  views  of  no  consequence,  is  only  to 
confirm  their  delusion,  and  to  aid  thoir  destruction. 

It  is  true  we  are  neither  to  despise  them  nor  perse- 
cute them ;  we  are  neither  to  oppress  nor  ridicule  them ; 
we  are  neither  to  look  upon  them  with  haughty  scorn 
nor  with  callous  indifference  ; — but  while  we  set  our- 
selves against  their  errors,  we  are  to  pity  them  with 
unalfected  compassion,  and  to  labour  for  their  conver- 
sion with  disinterested  kindness.  We  are  to  bear,  with 
unruffled  meekness,  all  their  provoking  sarcasms ;  and 
to  sustain,  with  deep  humility,  the  consciousness  of  our 
clearer  perceptions;  and  to  convince  them  that,  with 
the  steadiest  resistance  of  their  principles,  we  unite  the 
tendcrest  concern  for  their  persons. 

And,  if  charity  do  not  imply  indifference  to  religious 
opinions,  so  neither  docs  it  mean  connivance  at  sin. 
There  are  some  persons  whose  views  of  the  evil  of  sin 
are  so  dim  and  contracted,  or  their  good  nature  is  so 
accommodating  and  unscriptural,  that  they  make  all 


31 

kinds  of  excuses  for  men's  transgressions,  and  allow  of 
any  latitude  that  is  asked,  for  human  frailty.      The 
greatest  sins,  if  they  are  not  committed  against  the 
laws  of  society,  are  reduced  to  the  mere  infirmities  of 
our  fallen  nature,  which   should  not  be  visited  with 
harsh  censure;  and  as  for  the  lesser  ones,  they  are 
mere  specks  upon  a  bright  and  polished  surface,  which 
nothing  but  a  most  fastidious   precision    would   ever 
notice.      Such  persons    condemn,    as  sour  and  rigid 
ascetics,  all  who  oppose  and  condemn  iniquity  ;  revile 
them  as  uniting  in  a  kind  of  malignant  opposition  to  the 
cheerfulness  of  society,  the  very  dregs  of  puritanism 
and  barbarism ;  and  reproach  them  as  being  destitute 
of  all  the  charities  and  courtesies  of  life.     But  if  can- 
dour be  a  confounding  of  the  distinctions  between  sin 
and  holiness,  a  depreciating  of  the  excellence  of  the 
latter,  and  at  the  same  time  a  diminishing  of  the  evil  of 
the  former ;  if  it  necessarily  lead  us  to  connive  with  an 
easy  and  goodnatured  air  at  iniquity,  and  to  smile  with 
a  kind  and  gentle  aspect  upon  the  transgressions  which 
we  witness ; — then  it  must  be  something  openly  at  va- 
riance with  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  revelation :  and 
surely  that  candour  which  runs  counter  to  the  mind  of 
God,  cannot  be  the  love  on  v/hich  St.  Paul  passes  such 
an  eulogium  in  this  chapter.     We  are  told  by  the  word 
of  God,  that  sin  is  exceedingly  sinful ;  that  it  is  the 
abominable  thing  which  God  hates ;    that  the  Avages 
of  it  are  death ;  that  by  an  unholy  feeling  we  violate 
the  law  :  we  are  commanded  to  abstain  from  its  very 
appearance ;  we  are  warned  against  excusing  it  in  our- 
selves, or  in  each  other  ;  we  are  admonished  to  reprove 
it,  to  resist  it,  and  to  oppose  it,  to  the  uttermost.     Cer- 
tainly, then,  it  cannot  be  required  by  the  law  of  love, 
that  we  should  look  with  a  mild  and  tolerant  eye  on 
sin.     Love  to  man  arises  out  of  love  to  God  ;  but  can 
it  be  possible  to  love  God,  and  not  to  hate  sin  ]  it  is  the 
fruit  of  faith,  but  faith  purifies  the  heart  ;  it  is  cherished 
by  a  sense  of  redeeming  love  ;  but  the  very  end  of  the 
scheme  of  redemption  is  the  destruction  of  sin.     In- 
dulgence of  men  in  their  sins,  connivance  at  their  ini- 


S2 

quity,  instead  of  being  an  act  of  benevolence,  is  the 
greatest  cruelty :  hence  the  emphatic  language  of  God 
to  the  Israelites — "  Thou  shalt  not  hate  thy  brother  in 
thine  heart ;  thou  shalt  in  any  wise  rebuke  thy  neigh- 
bour, and  not  suffer  sin  upon  him."  Would  it  be  be- 
nevolence to  connive  at  that  conduct  by  which  any 
individual  was  bringing  disease  upon  his  body,  or  po- 
verty into  his  circumstances'?  If  not,  how  can  it  be 
benevolent  to  leave  him,  without  a  warning,  to  do  that 
which  will  involve  his  soul  in  ruin.  To  think  more 
lightly  of  the  evil  of  sin  than  the  word  of  God  does ; 
to  call  that  good,  or  even  indifferent,  which  by  it  is 
called  evil ;  to  make  allowances,  which  it  does  not 
make,  for  human  frailty ;  to  frame  excuses  for  sin 
which  it  disallows ;  to  lull  the  consciences  of  men,  by 
considerations  in  extenuation  of  guilt  which  it  forbids ; 
or  to  do  any  thing  to  produce  other  views  and  feelings 
in  reference  to  iniquity,  than  such  as  are  warranted  by 
the  Scripture,— is  not  charity,  but  a  participation  in 
other  men's  sins. 

It  is  the  nature  of  charity,  I  admit,  not  to  be  hasty 
to  impute  evil  motives  to  actions  of  a  doubtful  nature  ; 
not  to  take  pleasure  in  finding  out  the  faults  of  others ; 
not  to  magnify  them  beyond  the  reality,  but  to  make  all 
the  allowance  that  a  regard  to  truth  will  admit  of ;  to 
hope  the  best  in  the  absence  of  proof;  and  to  be  will- 
ing to  forgive  the  offence  when  it  has  been  committed 
against  ourselves  :  but  to  carry  it  beyond  this,  and  let 
it  degenerate  into  a  complaisance  which  is  afraid  to 
rebuke,  or  oppose,  or  condemn  sin,  lest  w6  should 
offend  the  transgressor,  or  violate  the  law  of  courtesy, 
or  subject  ourselves  to  the  reproach  of  being  a  cen- 
sorious bigot;  which  courts  the  good-will  and  pro- 
motes the  self-satisfaction  of  others,  by  conniving  at 
their  sins ;  which  seeks  to  ingratiate  itself  in  their  af- 
fections, by  being  indulgent  to  their  vices ; — is  to  vio- 
late at  once  the  law  both  of  the  first  and  of  the  second 
Table  ;  is  to  forget  every  obligation  which  we  are  laid 
under,  both  to  love  God  and  our  neighbour.  If  this 
be  candour,  it  is  no  less  opposed  to  piety  than  to  hu- 


manity,  and  can  never  be  the  love  enjoined  in  so  many 
places  in  the  New  Testament,  No :  Christian  chari- 
ty is  not  a  poor  old  dotard,  creeping  about  the  world, 
too  blind  to  perceive  the  distinction  between  good  and 
evil ;  or  a  fawning  sycophant,  too  timid  to  reprove  the 
bold  transgressor,  and  smiling  with  parasitical  and 
imbecile  complacency  upon  the  errors  and  iniquities  of 
the  human  race ; — but  a  vigorous  and  healthy  virtue, 
with  an  eye  keen  to  discern  the  boundaries  between 
right  and  wrong,  a  hand  strong  and  ready  to  help  the 
transgressor  out  of  his  miserable  condition,  a  heart  full 
of  mercy  for  the  sinner  and  the  sufferer ;  a  disposition 
to  forgive  rather  than  to  revenge,  to  extenuate  rather 
than  to  aggravate,  to  conceal  rather  than  to  expose,  to 
be  kind  rather  than  severe,  to  be  hopeful  of  good  rather 
than  suspicious  of  evil, — but  withal,  the  inflexible,  im- 
nmtable  friend  of  holiness,  and  the  equally  inflexible 
and.immutable  enemy  of  sin. 

We  are  not  allowed,  it  is  true,  to  be  scornful  and 
proud  towards  the  wicked,  nor  censorious  towards  any; 
we  are  not  to  make  the  most  distant  •  approach  to  the 
temper  which  says,  "  Stand  by,  I  am  holier  than  thou,!" 
we  are  not  to  hunt  for  the  failings  of  others,  nor,  when 
we  see  them  without  hunting  for  them,  to  condemn 
them  in  a  tone  of  arrogance,  or  with  a  spirit  of  acerbi- 
ty ;  but  still  we  must  maintain  that  temper  which,  while 
it  reflects  the  beauty  of  a  God  of  love,  no  less  bright- 
ly reflects  his  glory  as  a  God  of  holiness  and  a  God  of 
truth. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE    INDISPENSABLE  NECESSITY  OF    CHRISTIAN   LOVE. 


A  DISTINCTION  has  been  introduced  into  the  subject 
of  religion,  which,  although  not  wholly  free  from  ob- 
jection, is  sufficient  to  answer  the  purpose  for  which  it 
is,  employed ;  I  mean  that  which  exists  between  es- 
sentials and  non-essentials.  It  would  be  a  difficult  task 
to  trace  the  boundary  line  by  which  these  classes  are 
divided ;  but  the  truth  of  the  general  idea  cannot  be 
questioned — that  there  are  sortie  things,  both  in  faith 
and  practice,  which,  for  want  of  perceiving  the  grounds 
of  their  obligation,  we  may  neglect,  and  yet  not  be 
destitute  of  true  religion;  while  there  are  others,  the 
absence  of  which  necessarily  implies  an  unrenewed 
heart.  Among  the  essentials  of  true  piety,  must  be 
reckoned  the  disposition  we  are  now  considering.  It 
is  not  to  be  classed  with  those  observances  and  views 
which,  though  important,  are  not  absolutely  essential 
to  salvation  :  we  must  possess  it,  or  we  are  not  Chris- 
tians now,  and  shall  not  be  admitted  into  heaven  here- 
after. The  Apostle  has  expressed  this  necessity  in  the 
clearest  and  the  strongest  manner.  He  has  put  a 
hypothetical  case  of  the  most  impressive  kind,  which  I 
shall  now  illustrate. 


35 

"  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men  or  of 
angels,  and  have  not  charity,  /  am  become  as  sounding 
brass,  or  a  tinkling  cymbaV^ — ^Verse  1. 

By  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  we  are  not 
to  understand  the  powers  of  the  loftiest  eloquence, 
hut  the  miraculous  gift  of  tongues,  accompanied  by  an 
ability  to  convey  ideas  according  to  the  method  of 
celestial  beings.  Should  a  man  be  invested  with  these 
stupendous  endowments,  and  employ  them  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Gospel ;  still,  if  his  heart  were  not  a  par- 
taker of  love,  he  would  be  no  more  acceptable  to  God, 
than  was  the  clangor  of  the  brazen  instruments  em- 
ployed in  the  idolatrous  worship  of  the  Egyptian  Isis, 
or  the  noise  of  the  tinkling  cymbals  which  accompa- 
nied the  orgies  of  the  Grecian  Cybele.  Such  a  man's 
profession  of  religion  is  not  only  worthless  in  the  sight 
of  God,  but  disagreeable  and  disgusting.  The  com- 
parison is  remarkably  strong,  inasmuch  as  it  refers  not 
to  soft  melodious  sounds,  as  of  the  flute  or  of  the  harp 
— not  to  the  harmonious  chords  of  a  concert, — but  to 
the  harsh  dissonance  of  instruments  of  the  most  inhar- 
monious character :  and  if,  as  is  probable,  the  allusion 
be  to  the  noisy  clank  of  idolatrous  musicians,  the  idea 
is  as  strongly  presented  as  it  is  possible  for  the  force  of 
language  to  express  it. 

"  ^nd  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  under- 
stand all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge;  and  though  I 
have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  mountains,  and  have 
not  CHARiTF,  /  am  nothing.^' — ^Verse  2. 

Paul  still  alludes  to  miraculous  endowments.  Pro- 
phecy, in  the  Scripture  use  of  the  term,  is  not  limited 
to  the  foretelling  of  future  events,  but  means,  to  speak 
by  inspiration  of  God ;  and  its  exercise,  in  this  instance, 
refers  to  the  power  of  explaining,  without  premedita- 
tion or  mistake,  the  typical  and  predictive  parts  of  the 
Old  Testament  dispensation,  together  with  the  facts 
and  doctrines  of  the  Christian  economy.  "  The  faith 
that  could  remove  mountains,"  is  an  allusion  to  an  ex- 
pression of  our  Lord's,  which  occurs  in  the  Gospel 
history.     "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  If  ye  have  faith  as 


36 

a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  ye  shall  say  unto  this  moun- 
tain, Remove  hence  to  yonder  place  ;  and  it  shall  re- 
move." This  faith  is  of  a  distinct  nature  altogether 
from  that  by  which  men  are  justified,  and  become  the 
children  of  God.  It  has  been  called  the  faith  of  mi- 
racles, and  seems  to  have  consisted  in  a  firm  persuasion 
of  the  power  or  ability  of  God  to  do  any  miraculous 
thing  for  the  support  of  the  Gospel.  It  operated  two 
ways :  the  first  was  a  belief  on  the  part  of  the  person 
who  wrought  the  miracle,  that  he  was  the  subject  of  a 
divine  impulse,  and  called  at  that  time  to  perform  such 
an  act ;  and  the  other  was  a  belief  on  the  part  of  the 
person  on  whom  a  miracle  was  about  to  be  performed, 
that  such  an  effect  would  be  really  produced.  Now 
the  Apostle  declared,  that  although  a  man  had  been 
gifted  with  prophecy,  so  as  to  explain  the  deepest  mys- 
teries of  the  Jewish  or  the  Christian  systems,  and,  in 
addition,  possessed  that  miraculous  faith  by  which  the 
most  difficult  and  astonishing  changes  would  have  been 
effected, — he  was  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing,  with- 
out love. 

"  ^nd  though  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor, 
and  though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not 
CHARITY,  it  profileth  me  nothing.'''' — Verse  3. 

This  representation  of  the  indispensable  necessity  of 
love  is  most  striking;  it  supposes  it  possible  that  a 
man  may  distribute  all  his  substance  in  acts  of  appa- 
rent beneficence,  and  yet,  after  all,  be  without  true 
religion.  Actions  derive  their  moral  character  from 
the  motives  under  the  influence  of  which  they  are  per- 
formed ;  and  many  which  are  beneficial  to  man,  may 
still  be  sinful  in  the  sight  of  God,  because  they  are  not 
done  from  a  right  inducement.  The  most  diffusive 
liberality,  if  prompted  by  pride,  vanity,  or  self-righteous- 
ness, is  of  no  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  omniscient  Je- 
hovah ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  very  sinful.  And  is  it 
not  too  evident  to  be  questioned,  that  many  of  the  alms- 
deeds  of  which  we  are  the  witnesses,  are  done  from  any 
motives  but  the  right  ones  1  We  can  readily  imagine 
that  multitudes  are  lavish  in  their  pecuniary  contribu- 


87 

tions,  who  are  at  the  same  time  totally  destitute  of  love 
to  God  and  love  to  man ;  and  if  destitute  of  these  sa- 
cred virtues,  they  are,  as  it  respects  real  religion,  less 
than  nothing,  although  they  should  spend  every  farthing 
of  their  property  in  relieving  the  wants  of  the  poor. 
If  our  munificence,  however  great  or  self-denying,  be 
the  operation  of  mere  selfish  regard  to  ourselves,  to  our 
own  reputation,  or  to  our  own  safety,  and  not  of  pure 
love,  it  may  do  good  to  others,  but  will  do  none  to  our- 
selves. "  And  though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned," 
i.  e.  as  a  martyr  for  religion,  "  and  have  not  charity,  it 
profiteth  me  nothing."  Whether  such  a  case  as  this 
ever  existed,  we  know  not ;  it  is  not  impossible,  nor 
improbable ;  but  if  it  did,  not  the  tortures  of  an  ago- 
nizing death,  nor  the  courage  that  endured  them,  nor 
the  seeming  zeal  for  religion  which  led  to  them,  would 
be  accepted  in  lieu  of  love  to  man.  Such  an  instance 
of  self-devotedness  must  have  been  the  result  either  of 
that  self-righteousness  which  substitutes  its  own  suffer- 
ings for  those  of  Christ,  or  of  that  love  of  fame  which 
scruples  not  to  seek  it  even  in  the  fires  of  martyrdom ; 
— in  either  case  it  partakes  not  of  the  nature,  nor  will 
receive  the  reward,  of  true  religion.  It  will  help  to 
convince  us,  not  only  of  the  necessity,  but  of  the  im- 
portance, of  this  temper  of  mind,  if  we  bring  into  a 
narrow  compass  the  many  and  various  representations 
of  it  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  New  Testament. 

1.  It  i^  the  object  of  the  Divine  decree  in  predestina- 
tion. "  According  as  he  hath  chosen  us  in.  him  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we  should  be  holy 
and  without  blame  before  him  in  love." — Ephes.  i.  4. 

2.  It  is  the  end  and  purpose  of  the  moral  law.  "  The 
end  of  the  commandment  is  charity  (love.")  "  Jesus 
said  unto  him.  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
mind-  This  is  the  first  and  great  commandment.  And 
the  second  is  like  unto  it — Thou  shalt  love  thy  neigh- 
bour as  thyself  On  these  two  commandments  hang 
all  the  Law  and  the  Prophets." — Matt.  xxii.  37—40. 
**  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law." 

5 


38 

3.  It  is  the  evidence  of  regeneration.  "  Love  is  of 
God,  and  every  one  that  loveth  is  bom  of  God." — 1 
John  iv.  7. 

4.  It  is  the  necessary  operation  and  effect  of  saving 
faith.  "  For  in  Christ  Jesus  neither  circumcision 
availeth  any  thing,  nor  uncircuracision ;  but  faith  which 
worketh  by  love." 

5.  It  is  that  grace  by  which  both  personal  and  mutual 
edification  is  promoted.  "  Knowledge  puffeth  up,  but 
charity  (love)  edifieth." — 1  Cor.  viii.  1. — "Maketh  in- 
crease of  the  body  to  the  edifying  of  itself  in  love." — 
Eph.  iv.  16. 

6.  It  is  the  proof  of  a  mutual  inhabitation  between 
God  and  his  people.  "  If  we  love  one  another,  God 
dwelleth  in  us,  and  his  love  is  perfected  in  us.  Here- 
by know  we  that  we  dwell  in  him,  and  he  in  us,  because 
he  hath  given  us  of  his  Spirit.  And  we  have  known 
and  believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to  us.  God  is  love  ; 
and  he  that  dwelleth  m  love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God 
in  him."— 1  John  iv.  12—16. 

7.  It  is  declared  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  the  Christian 
virtues.     "  The  greatest  of  these  is  charity  (love.") 

8.  It  is  represented  as  the  perfection  of  religion. 
"  Above  all  these  things,  put  on  charity  (love,)  which 
is  the  bond  of  perfectness." — Col.  iii.  4. 

What  encomiums  are  these !  what  striking  proofs  of 
the  supreme  importance  of  the  disposition  now  under 
consideration  !  Who  has  not  been  guilty  of  some 
neglect  of  it  1  Who  has  not  had  his  attention  drawn 
too  much  from  it  1  Who  can  read  these  passages  of 
Holy  Writ,  and  not  feel  convinced  that  not  only  man- 
kind in  general,  but  the  professors  of  spiritual  religion 
also,  have  too  much  mistaken  the  nature  of  true  piety  ? 
What  are  clear  and  orthodox  views — what  are  strong 
feelings — what  is  our  faith — what  our  enjoyment — 
what  our  freedom  from  gross  immorality, — without  this 
spirit  of  pure  and  universal  benevolence  1 

Whether  an  instance,  we  again  repeat,  ever  existed 
of  an  individual  whose  circumstances  answered  to  the 
supposition  of  the  Apostle,  we  cannot  determine ;  the 


statement  certainly  suggests  to  us  a  most  alarming  idea 
of  our  liability  to  self-deception  in  reference  to  our 
personal  religion.  Delusion  on  this  subject  prevails  to 
an  extent  truly  appalling.  Millions  are  in  error  as  to 
the  real  condition  of  their  souls,  and  are  travelling  to 
perdition,  while,  according  to  their  own  idea,  they  are 
journeying  to  the  celestial  Canaan.  Oh  fearful  mis  -> 
take  !  Oh  fatal  imposture !  What  terrible  disappoint- 
ment awaits  them !  What  horror,  and  anguish,  and 
despair,  will  take  eternal  possession  of  their  souls,  in 
that  moment  of  revelation,  when,  instead  of  awaking 
from  the  sleep  of  death  amidst  the  glories  of  the  hea- 
venly city,  they  shall  lift  up  their  eyes,  "  being  in  tor- 
ment." No  pen  can  describe  the  overwhelming  anguish 
of  such  a  disappointment,  and  the  imagination  shrinks 
with  amazement  and  torture  from  the  contemplation  of 
her  own  faint  sketch  of  the  insupportable  scene. 

To  be  led  on  by  the  power  of  delusion,  so  far  as  to 
commit  an  error  of  consequence  to  our  temporal  inte- 
rests ;  to  have  impaired  our  health,  our  reputation,  or 
our  property ; — is  sufficiently  painful,  especially  where 
there  is  no  prospect,  or  but  a  faint  one,  of  repairing  the 
mischief:  yet,  in  this  case,  religion  opens  a  balm  for 
the  wounded  spirit,  and  eternity  presents  a  prospect, 
where  the  sorrows  of  time  will  be  forgotten.  But,  oh ! 
to  be  in  error  on  the  nature  of  religion  itself,  and  to 
build  our  hopes  of  immortality  on  the  sand  instead  of 
the  rock ;  to  see  the  lamp  of  our  deceitful  profession, 
which  had  served  to  amuse  us  in  life,  and  even  to  guide 
us  in  false  peace  through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  suddenly  extinguished  as  we  cross  the  thres- 
hold of  eternity,  and  leaving  us  amidst  the  darkness 
of  rayless,  endless  night,  instead  of  quietly  expiring 
amidst  the  blaze  of  everlasting  day  !  Is  such  a  delu- 
sion possible  ?  Has  it  ever  happened  in  one  solitary 
instance  1  Do  the  annals  of  the  unseen  world  record 
one  such  case,  and  the  prison  of  lost  souls  contain  one 
miserable  spirit  that  perished  by  delusion  *?  Then  what 
deep  solicitude  ought  the  possibility  of  such  an  event 


40 

to  circulate  through  the  hearts  of  all,  to  avoid  the  error 
of  a  self-deceived  mind  ?  Is  it  possible  to  be  mistaken 
in  our  judgment  of  our  state  ? — then  how  deeply  anx- 
ious ought  we  all  to  feel,  not  to  be  misled  by  false 
criteria  in  forming  our  decision.  But  what  if,  instead 
of  one  case,  millions  should  have  occurred,  of  souls 
irrecoverably  lost  by  self-deception  1  What  if  delusion 
should  be  the  most  crowded  avenue  to  the  bottomless 
pit?  What  if  it  should  be  the  common  infatuation,  the 
epidemic  blindness,  which  has  fallen  upon  the  multi- 
tudes of  the  inhabitants  of  Christendom  ?  What  if 
this  moral  insanity  should  have  infected  and  destroyed 
very  many  who  have  made  even  a  stricter  profession  of 
religion  than  others  1  How  shall  we  explain,  much  more 
justify,  that  want  of  anxiety  about  their  everlasting 
welfare — ^that  destitution  of  care  to  examine  into  the 
nature  and  evidences  of  true  piety — that  willingness 
to  be  imposed  upon,  in  reference  to  etemity^which 
many  exhibit  1  Jesus  Christ  does  tell  us  that  many,  in 
that  day,  shall  say,  "  Lord,  Lord,  (lid  we  not  prophesy 
in  thy  name  1"  to  whom  he  will  say,  "  Depart  from  me, 
I  never  knew  you,  ye  workers  of  iniquity."  He  says, 
that  "  MANY  are  called,  but  few  chosen."  He  says, 
that  of  the  four  classes  of  those  who  hear  the  word, 
only  one  hears  it  to  advantage.  He  says,  that  of  the 
ten  virgins,  to  whom  he  likens  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
Jive  only  were  wise,  while  the  other  five  were  deceiving 
themselves  with  the  unfed  lamp  of  a  deceitful  profes- 
sion. He  intimates  most  plainly,  that  self-deception  in 
religion  is  fearfully  common — and  common  amongst 
those  who  make  a  more  serious  profession  than  others. 
It  is  he  that  has  sounded  the  alarm  to  awaken  slumber- 
ing professors  of  religion  from  their  carnal  security. 
It  is  he  that  hath  said,  **  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let 
him  hear." — "  I  know  thy  works,  how  that  thou  hast  a 
name  that  thou  livcst  and  art  dead."  How  careful, 
then,  ought  we  to  be,  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by  false 
evidences  of  religion,  and  not  to  conclude  that  we  are 
Christians,  while  we  are  destitute  of  those  things  which 


u 

the  word  of  God  declares  to  be  essential  to  genuine 
piety.  We  must  have  love,  therefore,  or  all  else  is  in- 
sufficient. 

1.  Some  conclude,  that  because  they  are  regular  in 
their  attendance  upon  the  services  of  religion,  they  are 
true  Christians :  they  go  punctually  to  church  or  to 
meeting — they  receive  the  Lord's  Supper^ — they  fre- 
quent the  meetings  for  social  prayer — ^they,  perhaps, 
repeat  prayers  in  secret,  and  read  the  Scriptures.  AH 
this  is  well,  if  it  be  done  with  right  views,  and  in  con- 
nexion with  right  dispositions:  but  it  is  the  whole  of 
their  religion  ;  a  mere  abstraction  of  devotional  exer- 
cise ;  a  thing  separate  and  apart  from  the  heart,  and 
temper,  and  conduct ;  a  business  of  the  closet,  and  of 
the  sanctuary ;  a  sort  of  composition  paid  to  the  Al- 
mighty, to  be  released  from  all  the  other  demands  of 
Scripture  and  obligations  of  piety;  an  expression  of 
their  willingness  to  be  devout  in  the  church,  and  on  the 
Sabbath,  provided  they  may  be  as  earthly-minded,  as 
selfish,  as  malicious,  and  as  unkind,  as  they  please,  in 
all  places  and  all  times  besides.     This  is  not  religion. 

2.  Others  are  depending  upon  the  clearness  of  their 
vieicSf  and  their  attainments  in  evangelical  knowledge. 
They  pretend  to  a  singular  zeal  for  the  truth,  and  are 
great  sticklers  for  the  doctrines  of  grace,  of  which  they 
profess  to  have  an  acquaintance  little  short  of  inspira- 
tion. They  look  upon  all,  besides  a  few  of  their  own 
class,  as  mere  babes  in  knowledge,  or  as  individuals 
who,  like  the  man  in  the  Gospel,  have  their  eyes  only 
half  opened,  and  who  see,  "men  as  trees  walking." 
They  are  the  eagles  who  soar  to  the  sun,  and  bask  in 
his  beams ;  while  the  rest  of  mankind  are  the  moles 
that  burrow,  and  the  bats  that  flutter  in  the  dark.  Doc- 
trine is  everything ;  clear  views  of  the  Gospel  are  the 
great  desideratum ;  and  in  their  zeal  for  these  things, 
they  suppose  they  can  never  say  things  extravagant 
enough,  nor  absurd  enough,  nor  angry  enough,  against 
good  works,  practical  religion,  or  Christian  temper. 
Puffed  up  with  pride,  selfish,  unkind,  irritable,  censori- 
ous, malicious, — they  manifest  a  total  want  of  that  hu* 

5  * 


mility  and  kindness  which  are  the  prominent  features 
of  true  Christianity.  Clear  views,  even  where  they 
have  no  resemblance  to  the  monstrous  caricatures  and 
frightful  deformities  of  modern  Antinomianism,  are  of 
themselves  no  evidence  of  religion,  any  more  than 
right  theoretical  notions  of  the  constitution  are  the 
proofs  of  loyalty ;  and  as  a  man,  with  these  notions  in 
his  mind,  may  be  a  traitor  in  his  heart,  so  may  a  pro- 
fessor of  religion  be  an  enemy  to  God  in  his  soul,  with 
an  evangelical  creed  upon  his  tongue.  Many  profess 
to  be  very  fond  of  the  lamp  of  truth,  grasp  it  firmly  in 
their  hands,  admire  its  flame,  pity  or  blame  those  who 
are  following  the  delusive  and  meteoric  fires  of  error ; 
but,  after  all,  make  no  other  use  of  it,  than  to  illumi- 
nate the  path  that  leads  them  to  perdition :  their  reli- 
gion begins  and  ends  in  adopting  a  form  of  sound  words 
ibr  their  creed,  approving  an  evangelical  ministry,  atl- 
miring  the  popular  champions  of  the  truth,  and  joining 
in  the  reprobation  of  fundamental  error.  As  to  any 
spirituality  of  mind,  any  heavenliness  of  affection,  any 
Christian  love — in  short,  as  to  any  of  the  natural  ten- 
dency, the  appro])riate  energy,  the  vital  elevating  influ- 
ence, of  those  very  doctrines  to  which  they  profess  to 
be  attached — they  are  as  destitute  as  the  veriest  world- 
ling ;  and,  like  him,  are  perhaps  selfish,  revengeful,  im- 
placable, and  unkind.  This  is  a  religion  but  too  com- 
mon in  the  present  day,  when  evangelical  sentiments 
are  becoming  increasingly  popular ;  a  religion  but  too 
common  in  our  churches ;  a  religion,  cold,  heartless, 
and  uniniluential ;  a  sort  of  lunar  light,  which  reflects 
the  beams  of  the  sun,  but  not  his  warmth. 

3.  On  the  other  hand,  some  are  satisfied  with  the 
vividness  and  the  violaice  of  their  feelings.  Possessed 
of  much  excitability  and  warmth  of  temperament,  they 
are,  of  course,  susceptible  of  deep  and  powerful  im- 
pression from  the  ordinances  of  religion.  They  are 
not  without  their  religious  joy,  for  even  the  stony  ground 
hearers  rejoiced  for  a  while ;  and  they  are  not  without 
their  religious  sorrows.  Their  tears  are  plentiful, 
and  their  sroUes  in  proportioD-     See  them  in  the 


house  of  God,  and  none  appear  to  feel  more  under 
the  word  than  they.  The  sermon  exerts  a  plastic 
power  over  their  affections,  and  the  preacher  seems  to 
have  their  hearts  at  command.  They  talk  loudly  of 
"  happy  frames,"  "  precious  seasons,"  "  comfortable 
opportunities."  But  follow  them  from  the  house  of 
God  to  their  own  habitation,  and,  oh,  how  changed 
the  scene  ! — ^the  least  offence,  perhaps  an  unintentional 
one,  raises  a  storm  of  passion,  and  the  man  that  look- 
ed like  a  seraph  in  the  sanctuary,  seems  more  like  a 
fury  at  home :  follow  them  from  the  Sabbath  into  the 
days  of  the  week ;  and  you  will  see  the  man  who  ap- 
peared all  for  heaven  on  the  Sunday,  all  for  earth  on 
the  Monday :  follow  them  from  the  assembly  of  the 
saints  to  the  chief  places  of  concourse,  where  they 
buy,  and  sell,  and  get  gain ;  and  you  will  see  the  man 
who  looked  so  devout,  irritated  and  litigious,  selfish  and 
overreaching,  rude  and  insulting,  envious  and  mali- 
cious, suspicious  and  defamatory.  Yes ;  and  perhaps 
in  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  you  will  see  him  at  a 
prayer  meeting,  enjoying,  as  he  supposes,  the  holy 
season.  Such  is  the  delusion  under  which  many  are 
living.  Their  religion  is,  in  great  part,  a  mere  suscep- 
tibility of  impression  from  religious  subjects ;  it  is  a 
selfish,  religious  voluptuousness. 

It  is  certain,  that  more  importance  is  oftentimes 
attached  to  "  sensible  enjoyment,"  as  it  is  called — to 
lively  frames  and  feelings — than  belongs  to  them. 
There  is  a  great  variety  in  the  constitution  of  the 
human  mind,  not  only  as  it  respects  the  power  of 
thinking,  but  also  of  feeling :  some  feel  far  more 
acutely  than  others ;  this  is  observable  separate  and 
apart  from  godliness.  The  grace  of  God  in  conver- 
sion, operates  a  moral,  not  a  physical,  change  ;  it  gives 
a  new  direction  to  the  faculties,  but  leaves  the  faculties 
themselves  as  they  were ;  consequently,  with  equal  depth 
of  conviction,  and  equal  strength  of  principle,  there 
will  be  various  degrees  of  feeling,  in  different  persons : 
the  susceptibility  of  the  mind  to  impression,  and  its  lia- 


4i 

bility  to  vivid  feeling,  were  there  before  conversion, 
and  they  remain  after  it;  and  oftentimes  the  lively 
emotion  produced  by  affecting  scenes,  or  seasons,  or 
sermons,  is  partly  an  operation  of  nature,  and  partly 
of  grace.  A  man  may  feel  but  little,  and  yet,  if  that 
little  lead  him  to  do  much,  it  is  great  piety  notwith- 
standing. Of  two  persons  who  listen  to  an  affecting 
tale,  one  is  seen  to  weep  profusely,  and  is  overwhelmed 
by  the  story ;  the  other  is  attentive  and  thoughtful,  but 
neither  weeps  nor  sobs.  They  retire :  the  former, 
perhaps,  to  wipe  her  tears,  and  to  forget  the  misery 
which  caused  them  ;  the  latter  to  seek  out  the  sufferer, 
and  relieve  him.  Which  had  inost  feeling  *?  The  former. 
Which  most  benevolence  1  The  latter.  The  conduct 
of  one  was  the  result  of  nature,  that  of  the  other  the 
effect  of  principle.  Take  another  illustration,  still 
more  in  point.  Conceive  of  two  real  Christians  lis- 
tening to  a  sermon  in  which  the  preacher  is  discoursing 
from  such  a  text  as  this — "  Beloved,  if  God  so  loved 
us,  we  ought  also  to  love  one  another  ;"  or  this — "  Ye 
know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  though 
he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  he  became  poor,  that 
ye,  through  his  poverty  might  be  rich."  His  object, 
as  that  of  every  man  should  be,  who  preaches  from 
such  a  text,  is  to  show  that  a  sense  of  divine  love  to 
usy  should  fill  us  with  benevolence  towards  others.  In 
order  to  bring  the  heart  to  feel  its  obligations,  he  gives 
a  vivid  description  of  God's  love  to  man ;  and  then, 
while  his  hearers  are  affected  with  God's  mercy  he  calJs 
upon  them,  in  imitation  of  Jehovah,  to  relieve  those 
who  are  in  want ;  to  bear  with  those  who  are  vexatious ; 
to  forgive  those  who  have  injured  them ;  to  lay  aside 
their  wrath,  and  abound  in  all  the  expressions  of  ge- 
nuine affection  to  their  fellow-christians.  One  of  the 
individuals  is  deeply  interested  and  affected  by  the  first 
part  of  the  discourse,  sheds  many  tears,  and  is  wrought 
up  to  a  high  pitch  of  feeling,  while  the  preacher  paints 
in  glowing  colours  the  love  of  God :  the  other  hears 
with  fixed  attention,  with  genuine  faith,  the  whole  ser- 


4« 

man,  but  his  emotions  are  not  powerful ;  he  feels  it  is 
true,  but  it  is  tranquil  feeling,  unattended  by  either 
smiles  or  tears.  They  go  home ;  the  latter  perhaps  iH 
silence,  the  former  exclaiming  to  his  friends,  "  Oh, 
what  a  delightful  sermon !  what  a  precious  season ! 
did  you  ever  hear  the  love  of  God  so  impressively,  so 
beautifully,  described  ?'  With  all  his  feeling,  however, 
he  does  not  go  forth  to  relieve  one  child  of  want,  nor 
does  he  attempt  to  extinguish  one  angry  or  implacable 
feeling  towards  an  individual  who  had  offended  him- 
He  is  as  passionate  and  unforgiving,  as  unkind  and  sel- 
fish, after  the  sermon,  as  he  was  before  he  heard  it 
The  other  retires  with  more  of  calm  reflection  than  of 
strong  emotion.  Hearken  to  his  soliloquy : — "  The 
preacher  has  given  us  a  most  astonishing  idea  of  the 
love  of  God  to  us,  and  most  clearly  and  affectingly  de- 
duced from  it  our  obligations  to  love  one  another. 
Am  /  interested  in  this  love  1  What !  has  this  ineffable 
grace  lavished  all  its  benefits  on  me,  a  rebel  against 
God,  upon  me  a  sinner?  And  shall  /  not  feel  this  love 
constraining  me  to  relieve  the  wants,  to  heal  the  sor- 
rows, to  forgive  the  offences,  of  my  fellow-creatures  1 
I  will  bear  ill  will  no  longer ;  I  will  put  out  the  kindling 
spark  of  revenge  ;  I  will  go  in  a  spirit  of  meekness  and 
of  love,  and  forgive  the  offender,  and  be  reconciled  to 
my  brother."  By  that  grace  on  which  he  depended, 
he  is  enabled  to  act  up  to  his  resolution.  He  becomes, 
upon  principle,  upon  conviction,  more  merciful,  more 
meek,  more  affectionate.  Which  has  most  feeling? 
The  former.     Which  has  most  religion?     The  latter. 

Any  emotion,  however  pleasurable  or  intense,  that 
does  not  lead  to  action,  is  mere  natural,  not  holy, 
feeling  :  while  that,  however  feeble  it  may  seem,  which 
leads  us  to  do  the  will  of  God,  is  unfeigned  piety.  In 
order  to  ascertain  our  degree  of  religion,  we  must  not 
merely  ask,  how  we  feel  under  sermons,  but  how  this 
feeling  leads  us  to  act  afterwards.  The  operative 
strength  of  our  principles,  and  not  the  contemplative 
strength  of  our  feelings,  is  the  test  of  godliness.     All 


4S 

that  imaginative  emotion,  produced  by  a  sense  of  God's 
love  to  us,  which  does  not  lead  to  a  cultivation  of  the 
virtue  considered  in  this  treatise,  is  one  of  the  delusive 
fires,  which,  instead  of  guiding  aright,  misleads  the 
souls  of  men. 

4.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  many,  in  the  present  day, 
satisfy  themselves  that  they  are  Christians,  because  of 
their  zeal  in  the  cause  of  religion.  Happily  for  the 
church  of  God,  happily  for  the  world  at  large,  there  is 
now  a  great  and  general  eagerness  for  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge  and  piety.  Throwing  oGf  the  torpor  of 
ages,  the  friends  of  Christ  are  labouring  to  extend  his 
kingdom  in  every  direction.  Almost  every  possible 
object  of  Christian  philanthropy  is  seized  upon;  socie- 
ties are  organized ;  means,  adapted  to  every  kind  of 
instruments,  are  employed ;  the  whole  levy  en  masse  of 
the  religious  world  is  called  out ;  and  Christendom  pre- 
sents an  interesting  scene  of  benevolent  energy.  Such 
a  state  of  things,  however,  has  its  dangers  in  reference 
to  personal  religion,  and  may  become  an  occasion  of 
delusion  to  many.  It  does  not  require  genuine  piety 
to  associate  us  with  these  movements :  from  a  natural 
liberality  of  disposition,  or  regard  to  reputation,  or  a 
desire  of  influence,  or  by  the  compulsion  of  example, 
we  may  give  our  property  ;  for  all  these  motives  are  no 
doubt  in  partial  operation,  when  giving  is  in  fashion. 
And  as  to  personal  exertions,  how  many  inducements 
may  lead  to  this,  besides  a  sincere  and  an  ardent  love 
to  Christ ;  an  inherent  fondness  for  activity,  a  love  of 
display,  the  spirit  of  party,  the  persuasion  of  friends, 
— may  all  operate,  and  uncjuestionably  do  operate,  in 
many  cases,  to  produce  astonishing  etforts  in  the  cause 
of  religious  benevolence,  where  there  is  a  total  absence 
of  genuine  piety.  The  mind  of  man,  prone  to  self- 
deception,  and  anxious  to  find  some  reasons  to  satisfy 
itself  in  reference  to  its  eternal  state,  short  of  the  true 
evidence  of  a  renewed  heart,  is  too  apt  to  derive  a  false 
peace  from  the  contemplation  of  its  zeal.  In  propor- 
tion as  the  cause  of  the  delusion  approximates  to  the 
nature  of  true  religion,  is  its  power  to  blind  and  to 


47 

mislead  the  judgment.     If  the  mind  can  perceive  any 
thing  in  itself,  or  in  its  operations,  which  bears  the 
semblance  of  godliness,  it  will  convert  it  into  a  means 
of  lulling  the  conscience  and  removing  anxiety.     This 
is  to  many  persons  the  fatal  opiate,  the  soul-destroying 
imposture — their  activity  in  the  cause  of  Christian  zeal : 
none  are  more  diligent  in  their  devotedness  to  the  duties 
of  committees,  none  are  more  constant  in  their  attend- 
ance upon  public  meetings  ;  others,  again,  weary  them- 
selves in  their  weekly  rounds  to  collect  the  contributions 
of  the  rich  or  the  offerings  of  the  poor.     These  things, 
if  they  do  not  lead  them  coolly  to  reason  and  to  con- 
clude that  they  are  believers,  take  off  their  attention 
from  the  real  condition  of  their  souls,  leave  them  no 
leisure  for  reflection,  repress  the  rising  fear,  and  either 
stifle  the  voice  of  conscience,  or  enable  them  to  drown 
its  remonstrances  in  the  eloquence  of  the  platform,  or 
in  the  discussions  of  the  committee-room.     We  doubt 
not  that  some  unworthy  professors  of  religion,  in  the 
present  age,  resort  to  public  meetings  for  the  same 
reason  as  many  a  guilty  votary  of  pleasure  does  to 
public  amusements — to  forget  his  own  condition,  and 
to  turn  away  his  ear,  for  a  short  season,  from  the  voice 
that  speaks  to  him  from  within.     Individuals  are  known 
to  us  all,  who,  amidst  the  greatest  zeal  for  various  pub- 
lic institutions,  are  living  in  malice  and  all  uncharitable- 
ness,  in  the  indulgence  of  a  predominant  selfishness, 
and  uncontrolled  wrath.     But  it  will  not  do.     This  is 
not  piety.     Could  we  support  the  whole  expenditure 
of  the  Missionary  Society  by  oUr  affluence,  and  direct 
its  councils  by  our  wisdom,  and  keep  alive  its  energy 
by  our  ardour,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  were  destitute 
of  love, — ^we  should  perish  eternally,  amidst  the  muni- 
ficence of  our  liberality. 

And  of  those  who  have  the  grace  of  love,  and  who 
are  real  believers,  some  are  far  more  deficient  in  its  in- 
fluence and  activity  than  they  should  be  ;  and  endea- 
vour to  quiet  an  accusing  conscience  with  the  wretched 
sophistry,  "  that  as  a  Christian  cannot  be  supposed  to 
excel  in  every  thing,  their  forte  lies  in  the  active  virtues 


48 

of  religion  more  than  in  the  passive  graces ;  and  that, 
therefore,  any  little  deficiency  in  the  latter  is  made  up 
by  their  greater  abundance  of  the  former."  This  rea- 
soning is  as  false  in  its  principle,  as  it  is  frequent,  we 
fear,  in  its  adoption.  Where,  in  all  the  word  of  God, 
is  this  species  of  moral  composition  of  duties  taught  or 
sanctioned  1  This  is  really  carrying  the  popish  princi- 
ple of  indulgences  into  our  own  private  concerns,  and 
creating  a  surplus  stock  of  one  virtue  to  be  available 
for  the  deficiencies  of  another. 

It  is  to  be  apprehended,  that  as  every  age  is  marked 
with  a  peculiar  tendency,  either  to  some  prevailing  en'or 
or  defect,  the  tendency  of  the  present  age  is  to  exalt 
the  active  virtues  of  piety,  at  the  expense  of  the  passive 
ones ;  and,  while  the  former  are  forced  into  an  increas- 
ing luxuriance,  to  permit  the  latter  to  wither  in  their 
shade  ;  or,  at  least,  there  is  a  disposition  to  devote  all 
that  time  and  attention  to  the  culture  of  one  which 
ought  to  be  shared  between  both.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  our  love  of  activity  and  of  display  will  generally 
incline  us  to  prefer  the  cultivation  of  public  spirit, 
rather  than  the  more  private  and  self-denying  tempers 
of  meekness,  humility,  and  forbearance ;  for  it  is  incon- 
ceivably more  easy,  and  more  pleasant,  to  float  upon 
the  tide  of  public  feeling  towards  the  objects  of  reli- 
gious zeal,  than  to  wade  against  the  stream  of  our  own 
corrupt  tendencies,  and  to  accomplish  an  end  which  he 
only  who  seeth  in  secret  will  duly  appreciate. 

5.  May  it  not  be  said,  that  in  many  cases  a  profes- 
sion of  religion  seems  to  release  individuals  from  all 
obligation  to  cultivate  the  dispositions  which  it  necessa- 
rily implies ;  who,  instead  of  deriving  from  this  circum- 
stance a  stimulus  to  seek  after  the  Christian  temper, 
find  in  it  a  reason  for  general  negligence  *? 

They  have  been  admitted  as  members  of  a  church, 
and  have  thus  received,  as  it  were,  a  certificate  of  per- 
sonal religion  ;  and,  instead  of  being  anxious  from  that 
moment  to  excel  in  every  virtue  that  can  adoni  the 
doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour,  they  sink  into  careless- 
oess  and  lukewarmness.     A  profession  of  religion,  un- 


49 

supported  by  Christian  love,  will  only  increase  our  guilt 
here,  and  sink  us  immeasurably  lower  in  the  bottomless 
pit  hereafter.  Wo,  eternal  wo,  will  be  upon  that  man 
who  bears  the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus  without  his  imag^. 
Wo,  eternal  wo,  will  be  upon  those  members  of  our 
churches,  who  are  content  to  find  their  way  into  the 
fellowship  of  the  faithful,  without  adding  to  their  cha- 
racter the  lustre  of  this  sacred  virtue. 

Thus  have  we  shown  how  many  things  there  are, 
which,  though  good  in  themselves,  when  performed 
from  right  motives  and  in  connexion  with  other  parts 
of  religion,  cannot,  in  the  absence  of  love,  be  depended 
upon  as  unequivocal  evidences  of  personal  piety.  I^t 
us  beware  of  self-deception  in  this  awfully  important 
business ;  for  it  will  be  dreadful  beyond  the  power  of 
imagination  to  conceive  of,  to  find  ourselves  the  next 
moment  after  death,  amidst  the  horrors  of  the  infernal 
pit,  instead  of  the  felicities  of  the  celestial  city.  Love 
is  required  by  God,  as  an  essential  part  of  true  reli- 
gion y  and  the  total  absence  of  it  as  necessarily  pre- 
vents a  man  from  being  a  true  Christian,  as  the  want  of 
temperance  or  purity.  Besides,  this  is  the  temper  of 
heaven ;  this  is  the  unvarying  state  of  mind  in  the  in- 
numerable company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect ;  this  is  the  heart  of  Jesus,  the  media- 
tor of  the  new  covenant,  and  the  image  of  God  the 
Judge  of  all.  Without  this,  there  would  be  no  meet- 
ness  for  the  society  of  paradise,  no  fitness  for  an  asso- 
ciation of  which  the  bond  of  fellowship  is  love ;  without 
this  there  can  be  no  grace  here,  and,  therefore,  no  glory 
hereafter. 


:  •■•:   .'iii'mviyji  'i'ff  tl      .-snuii^*';^).. 
9 


(ii 


CHAPTER  V. 


ON  THE  PROPERTIES    OF   CHRISTIAN  LOVE,  AS  STATED 
BT  THE  APOSTLE. 


By  a  beautiful  personification,  the  Apostle  has  de- 
scribed this  grace  under  the  figure  of  an  interesting  fe- 
rh£ile,  who,  like  an  angel  of  light,  lifts  her  cherubic  form 
and  smiling  countenance  amidst  the  children  of  men ; 
shedding,  as  she  passes  along,  a  healing  influence  on 
the  wounds  of  society,  hushing  the  notes  of  discord, 
driving  before  her  the  spirits  of  mischief,  bringing  the 
graces  in  her  train,  and  converting  earth  into  a  resem- 
blance of  heaven.  Her  charms  are  sufficient  to  capti- 
vate every  heart,  if  every  heart  were  as  it  should  be  ; 
and  her  influence  such  as  every  mind  should  court. 
"  Love  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind :  love  envieth  not : 
love  vaunteth  not  itself;  is  not  puffed  up;  doth  not 
behave  itself  unseemly ;  seeketh  not  her  own ;  is  not 
easily  provoked  ;  4hinketh  no  evil ;  rejoiceth  not  in  ini- 
quity, but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth ;  beareth  all  things,  be- 
lieveth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things." 

I .  The  first  remark  which  I  make  on  these  proper- 
ties, is,  that  they  describe  a^uch  expressions  of  our  love  as 
have  a  particular  reference  to  our  temper. 

By  the  temper,  we  mean  the  prevailing  spu-it  and  dis- 
position of  the  mind,  as  it  respects  the  irascible  or  selfish 
affections.  If  we  examine,  we  shall  find  that  all  the 
qualities  here  enumerated,  bear  on  these  dispositions. 
There  are  other  operations  and  manifestations  of  chari- 
ty, beside  those  which  are  here,  specified — such,  for  in- 


51 

stance,  as  justice,  and  chastity ;  for  it  is  impossible  to 
love  mankind,  and  violate  the  rules  of  either  of  these 
duties :  but  the  apostle  restricts  his  specification  to  those 
properties  of  it,  which  are  comprehended  in  the  v^ord 
temper.  Nothing,  surely,  can  teach  more  clearly,  or 
more  impressively,  the  great  truth, — ^that  religion  must 
govern  the  temper, — ^than  this  chapter.  It  is  strange,  but 
true,  that  many  seem  to  think  that  temper  is  that  part 
of  a  man's  self  and  conduct,  over  which  religion  has  no 
legal  jurisdiction.  They  admit  their  obligations  to  be 
holy,  and  moral,  and  devout ;  but  they  do  not  feel,  at 
least  do  not  acknowledge,  that  it  is  their  duty  to  be 
meek,  gentle,  and  kind.  They  may  not  affirm  so  much 
in  words,  but  it  is  the  secret  and  tacit  system  of  conduct 
which  they  have  adopted.  Hence  it  is,  that  although 
they  are  correct  in  their  morals,  and  regular  in  their 
attendance  on  the  means  of  grace,  they  are  withal  so 
apt  to  receive  offence,  and  so  forward  to  give  it ;  they 
are  either  so  passionate,  or  so  sullen ;  so  implacable  or 
revengeful ; — that  the  real  excellences  of  their  charac- 
ter are  lost  sight  of  in  the  deep  shadow  of  their  infirmi- 
ties, and  the  ways  of  godluiess  are  spoken  ill  of  on  their 
account.  This  arises  from  their  not  being  sufficiently 
convinced  of  the  evil  of  such  mfirmities ;  and  this  blind- 
ness itself  is  the  consequence  of  a  supposition,  that  the 
removal  of  the  evil  is  physically  impossible.  "  Our 
temper,"  say  they,  "  is  as  much  a  part  of  ourselves,  as 
the  colour  of  our  skin,  or  the  conformation  of  our  body; 
it  is  naturally  inherent  in  us,  and  we  cannot  help  it."  As 
long  as  this  is  the  conviction  of  the  judgment,  or  the 
admission  of  a  deceitful  heart,  it  is  almost  vain  to  hope 
for  a  reformation.  But  let  us  reason  with  such  persons. 
It  must  be  admitted,  that  there  do  exist  constitutional 
tendencies  to  the  exercise  of  particular  passions  :  with- 
out being  able  to  account  for  these  effects,  or  whether 
the  cause  be  wholly  in  the  body  or  partly  in  the  mind, 
the  effects  are  too  obvious  to  be  denied.  Nay,  these 
constitutional  tendencies  are  no  less  hereditary,  some- 
times, than  direct  physical  disease.  One  man  is  natu- 
rally propense  to  passion  j  ?giother  to  sullenness;  a 


third  to  envy ;  a  fourth  to  pride :  all  this  is  mdisputable. 
But  these  tendencies  are  not  uncontroulable  :  they  are 
impulses,  but  not  constraints ;  incitements,  but  not 
compulsions.  It  would  subvert  the  whole  system  of 
moral  obligation,  to  suppose  that  we  were  under  a  phy- 
sical necessity  of  sinning,  which  we  certainly  should  be, 
if  inherent  tendencies  were  beyond  the  power  of  moral 
restraint.  That  cannot  be  duty,  which  a  man  could 
not  do  if  he  would ;  nor  can  that  be  sin,  which  he  can- 
not avoid  by  any  exercise  of  disposition  or  will.  If, 
therefore,  we  cannot  help  indulging  revenge,  envy, 
pride,  unkindness,  they  are  no  sins  :  and,  in  this  case 
would  such  vices  have  been  condemned,  if  there  were 
an  impossibility  in  the  way  of  avoiding  them  1  Certainly 
not.  It  is  no  actual  sin  to  have  the  liability ;  the  guilt 
consists  in  indul^ng  it. 

If  the  existence  of  constitutional  propensities  be  an 
excuse  for  their  indulgence,  the  licentious  man  may 
plead  it  in  justification  of  his  sensuality ;  for  he  may 
have .  stronger  incitements  to  his  besetting  sin,  than 
many  others  who  run  not  to  the  same  excess  of  rioL 
But  if  licentiousness  or  cruelty  cannot  be  excused  on 
this  ground,  why  should  anger,  revenge,  or  envy! 
Once  let  it  be  granted,  that  physical  tendency  is  an  ex- 
cuse for  any  kind  of  sinful  indulgence,  no  matter  of 
what  kind,  and  you  at  once  overturn  the  whole  system 
of  Christian  morals.  V'^ 

Besides,  natural  propensities,  of  the  most  iihpetuolis 
kinds,  have  been,  in  innumerable  instances,  not  only 
successfully  resisted,  but  almost  entirely  vanquished. 
We  have  known  persons,  who  were  once  addicted  to 
ftll  kinds  of  impure  gratifications,  but  who  have  beconje 
as  distinguished  for  chastity  as  they  once  were  for  lewd- 
ness ;  di-unkards  have  become  sober ;  men  as  furious 
as  enraged  tigers,  have  become  gentleness  itself  It  is 
.said  of  that  eminently  holy  and  useful  man,  Mr. 
Fletch,er,  of  Madely,  that  "  He  was  meek,  like  his 
Master,  as  well  as  lowly  in  heart.  Not  that  he  was  so 
by  nature,  but  a  man  of  strong  passions,  and  prone  to 
anger  in  particular ;  insomuch  that  he  has  frequently 


spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  bathed  in  tears,  im- 
ploring victory  over  his  own  spirit.  And  he  did  not 
strive  in  vain.  He. did  obtain  the  victory  in  a  very 
eminent  degree.  Yea,  so  thoroughly  had  grace  subdu- 
ed nature ;  so  fully  was  he  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his 
mind; — that  for  many  years  before  his  death,  I  believe 
he  was  never  observed  by  any  one,  friend  or  foe,  to  be 
out  of  temper  on  any  provocation  whatever.  The  tes- 
timony that  Bishop  Burnet  bears  of  Archbishop  Leigh- 
ton,  might  be  borne  of  him  with  equal  propriety.  After 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Archbishop  for  many 
years,  and  after  being  with  him  by  night  and  by  day, 
at  home  and  abroad,  in  public  and  in  private ;  I  must 
say,  I  never  heard  an  idle  word  drop  from  his  lips ;  I 
never  saw  him  in  any  temper,  in  which.  I  myself  would 
not  have  wished  to  be  found  at  death."  What  a  cha- 
racter !  What  a  testimony  !  But  it  is  not  the  beauty, 
the  inexpressible  moral  loveliness  of  it  alone,  which 
should  be  remarked,  but  the  convincing  proof  which 
it  furnishesj  that  a  naturally  bad  temper  may  be  sub- 
dued. Many  instances  of  this  kind  have  existed,  which 
accumulate  accusation  and  reproach  upon  the  man 
who  indulges  in  a  sinful,  constitutional  tendency  of  any 
kind,  under  the  mistaken  idea,  that  it  is  not  only  abso- 
lutely invincible,  but  altogether  irresistible. 

That  every  thing  which  pertains  to  our  physical  na- 
ture will  remain  after  our  conversion,  is  true,  for  grace 
produces  no  change  in  the  bodily  organization ;  and 
that  occasional  ebullitions  of  inherent  natural  temper  will 
occur  in  our  renewed  state,  is  allowed,  for  very  few  at- 
tain to  Mr.  Fletcher's  eminence  of  piety ;  but  if  we 
are  as  passionate  and  revengeful,  as  proud  and  envious, 
as  selfish  and  unkind,  as  we  were  before  our  supposed 
conversion,  we  may  be  assured  that  it  is  but  a  supposed 
conversion.  It  is  nothing,  that  we  go  regularly  to 
worship— it  is  nothing,  that  we  feel  under  sermons — 
it  is  nothing,  that  we  have  holy  frames  and  feelings  ; 
for  a  heart  under  the  predominant  influence  of  irascible 
passions,  can  no  more  have  undergone  the  change  of 
the  new  birth,  than  one  that  is  filled  with  a  prevailing 
6* 


54 

lasciviousness :  and  where  the  heart  is  renewed,  and 
the  badness  of  the  temper  is  not  constant,  but  only  oc- 
casional— is  not  regnant,  but  only  prominent, — it  is, 
in  so  far  as  it  prevails,  a  deduction  from  real  piety. 

True  it  is,  that  inherent  natural  tendency  will  require 
more  vigorous  resistance  and  unsleeping  vigilance, 
more  laborious  effort,  more  painful  mortification,  more 
■  earnest  prayer,  on  the  part  of  those  who  are  conscious 
of  it,  than  is  necessary  on  theirs  in  whom  it  does  not 
exist.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  such  persons  to  be  con- 
tented with  a  few  feeble  struggles,  and  then  to  flatter 
themselves  with  the  idea  that  there  is  more  grace  dis- 
played in  those  efforts  than  in  the  conduct  of  others, 
who,  being  naturally  good  tempered,  are  never  exposed 
to  their  temptations.  To  adorn  religion,  will  certainly 
cost  them  far  more  labour  than  it  does  those  of  a  bet- 
ter natural  temper ;  just  as  a  man  afflicted  with  a  weak- 
ly constitution,  or  a  chronic  disease,  must  take  more 
pains  with  himself  than  one  who  has  sound  health — and 
he  will,  after  all,  look  more  sickly  than  the  other ;  but 
as  his  bodily  malady  does  exist,  he  must  give  himself 
this  trouble,  or  he  cannot  rationally  expect  the  least 
share  of  health :  so  it  is  with  the  soul,  if  the  disease  of 
an  evil  temper  be  there,  immense  and  unwearied  pains 
must  be  taken  to  resist  and  repress  it.  This  is  what  is 
meant  by  our  "  plucking  out  a  right  eye,  or  cutting  off 
a  right  hand ;"  by  "  denying  ourselves  ;"  by  "  morti- 
fying the  deeds  of  the  body ;"  by  "  the  spiiit  struggling 
against  the  flesh  ;"  by  "  casting  aside  every  weight,  and 
the  sin  which  doth  most  easily  beset  us."  The  sub- 
jection of  our  temper  to  the  controul  of  religion,  is  a 
thing  which  must  be  done.  It  is  that  to  which  we  must 
apply,  as  to  a  matter  of  indispensable  necessity ;  it  is  an 
object  which  we  must  accomplish  by  any  mortification 
of  feeling,  and  by  any  expenditure  of  labour.  The 
virtues  which  we  are  about  to  consider,  will  spring  \fp 
in  no  soil  without  culture  ;  but  there  are  some  soils  pe- 
culiarly unfriendly  to  their  growth,  and  in  which  pro- 
ductions of  an  opposite  kind  thrive  spontaneously,  and 
grow   with  frightful  lu-\uriance :  with  these  greater 


pains  must  be  taken,  and  greater  patience  exercised, 
till  at  length  the  beautiful  imagery  of  the  prophet  shall 
be  realized — "  Instead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the 
fir  tree,  and  instead  of  the  briar  shall  come  up  the  myr- 
tle tree  ;  and  it  shall  be  to  the  Lord  for  a  name,  for  an 
everlasting  sign  that  shall  not  be  cut  off." 

But  for  eflFecting  such  a  transformation,  there  must 
be  a  degree  of  labour  and  painstaking,  which  very 
few  are  willing  to  endure  :  "  This  kind  goeth  not  forth 
but  by  prayer  and  fasting." 

To  obtain  this  victory  over  ourselves,  much  time  n!ust 
be  spent  in  the  closet — much  communion  with  God 
must  be  maintained — much  strong  crying  with  tears 
must  be  poured  forth.  We  must  undergo  what  the 
apostle  calls,  by  a  term  very  appropriate,  as  well  as 
strikingly  descriptive,  a  "crucifixion;" — "we  must 
crucify  the  flesh  with  the  affections  and  lusts  thereof ;" — 
"  we  must  keep,"  or  as  the  word  signifies,  "  beat  under 
our  body ;" — we  must  bring  our  mind,  from  time  to 
time,  under  the  influence  of  redeeming  grace ; — we 
must  ascend  the  hill  of  Calvary,  and  gaze  upon  that 
scene  of  love,  till  our  cold  hearts  melt,  our  hard  hearts 
soften,  and  all  the  cruel  selfishness  of  our  nature  re- 
laxes into  gentleness  ; — we  must  make  all  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel,  with  all  the  motives  they  contain,  bear 
upon  our  nature  :  the  example  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus  must  be  contemplated,  and  admired,  and  copied ; 
and  especially,  after  all,  must  we  breathe  forth  internal 
longings  for  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  without 
whose  aid  our  souls  will  no  more  yield  to  the  influence 
of  motives  than  the  polar  ice  will  melt  by  the  feeble 
beams  of  the  great  northern  constellation.  We  must 
pray  for  the  Sphit ;  long  for  the  Spirit ;  expect  the  Spi- 
rit ;  live,  walk,  struggle,  in  the  Spirit.  Thus  must  we 
set  ourselves  to  work  to  obtain  more  of  that  love,  which 
alone  can  subdue  our  evil  temper. 

2.  The  properties  here  enumerated  are  all  included  in 
love,  and  must  all  be  sought  by  every  real  Christian. 

The  general  disposition  includes  all  these  particular 
and  distinct  operations,  and  opposes  all  these  separate 


evils  :  it  is  as  much  opposed  to  envy  as  to  revenge,  and 
is  as  humble  as  it  is  kind.  Consequently,  we  are  not  to 
select  for  ourselves  such  modes  of  its  operation  as  we 
may  think  most  adapted  to  our  taste  and  to  our  circum- 
stances— ^giving  to  these  all  our  attention,  and  neglect- 
ing the  rest.  One  is  not  to  say,  "  I  am  most  inclined 
to  kindness,  and  I  shall  cherish  this  property,  which  I 
find  to  be  more  easy  and  pleasant  than  to  cultivate  hu- 
mility and  meekness."  Another  is  not  to  say,  "  I  find 
no  great  difficulty  in  forgiving  injuries,  and  I  shall  prac- 
tise this ;  but  as  for  envy,  I  am  so  propense  to  it,  that  I 
shall  give  up  all  attempts  to  eradicate  this  weed  from  my 
heart."  This  parcelling  out  of  the  disposition,  and  se- 
lecting that  part  which  is  most  congenial  to  our  consti- 
tutional tendency,  will  not  do.  Yet  is  the  attempt  made 
by  many,  who,  to  appease,  in  some  measure,  the  clamo- 
rous importunity  of  their  conscience,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  avoid  the  obligations  of  benevoleijce  as  a  whole, 
thus  impose  upon  themselves  with  a  supposed  attention 
to  some  partial  view  of  the  subject.  They  carry  on  a 
wretched  and  useless  attempt  to  balance  those  points  in 
which  they  succeed  against  those  in  which  they  fail ; 
their  excellences  against  their  defects.  It  may  be  said, 
in  reference  to  this  law  of  our  duty,  as  well  as  to  the 
still  more  comprehensive  one,  that  "  He  that  ofFendeth 
but  in  one  point  is  guilty  of  all ;"  for  that  authority 
which  saith,  "  Be  ye  kind,"  saith  also,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  think  evil  of  thy  neighbour."  These  amiable  pro- 
perties must  go  together ;  the  general  principle  which 
comprises  them  must  be  taken  as  a  whole.  It  is  one 
and  indivisible,  and  as  such  must  be  received  by  us. 
*•  Charity  is  the  bond  of  perfectness."  Like  the  band 
round  the  sheaf,  it  holds  all  the  separate  ears  together. 
Instead,  therefore,  of  allowing  ourselves  to  select,  we 
must  open  our  hearts  to  its  whole  and  undivided  influ- 
ence ;  and  if,  indeed,  there  be  any  one  of  its  properties 
in  which  we  are  more  than  ordinarily  deficient,  to  that 
one  we  must  direct  a  still  greater  portion  of  our  attention. 
3.  These  properties  are  perfectly  homogeneous.  They 
are  of  the  same  nature,  and  are,  therefore,  helpful  to 


each  other.  In  reality,  if  we  cultivate  one,  we  are  pre- 
paring the  way  for  others.  There  is  no  contrariety  of 
influence,  no  discordant  operation,  no  clashing  demands. 
When  we  are  rooting  vip  one  evil  by  love,  we  drag  up 
others  with  it :  when  we  subdue  pride,  we  weaken  our 
susceptibility  of  offence:  when  we  cherish  kindness, 
we  impoverish  selfishness.  This  is  an  immense  advan- 
tage in  the  cultivation  of  the  Christian  temper;  and  it 
shows  us  that  if  there  be  one  besetting  sinful  propensity 
in  the  heart,  it  draws  all  the  energy  of  the  mind  to  it- 
self, and  throws  a  dark  and  chilling  shadow  over  the 
whole  soul.  The  subjugation  of  this  one  bad  temper 
will  w^eaken  many  others  that  depend  for  existence  upon 
its  support ;  and  make  way  for  an  opposite  excellence, 
which  is  as  extensively  beneficial  as  the  other  was  inju- 
rious. This  is  a  powerful  incentive  to  the  arduous  and 
necessary  duty  of  self-improvement :  an  evil  disposi- 
tion eradicated,  is  a  good  one  implanted ;  and  one  good 
one  implanted,  is  a  way  made  for  others  to  follow. 

4.  As  these  properties,  while  they  are  separate  as  to 
their  nature,  all  unite  in  a  common  and  generic  disposition, 
our  first  and  chief  attention  must  be  to  that  which  is  the 
common  principle.  These  tempers  are  so  many  modes 
in  which  love  operates — so  many  streams  from  a  com- 
mon fountain, — so  many  branches  from  the  same  root. 
While,  therefore,  we  seek  to  guide  the  separate  streams, 
and  trim  the  different  branches  aright,  our  care  must  be 
exercised  chiefly  in  reference  to  the  parent  source. 
We  must  aim  steadily,  and  labour  constantly,  at  the  in- 
crease of  love  itself  We  must  do  every  thing  we  can 
to  strengthen  the  principle  of  benevolence  to  man. 
In  every  step  of  our  progress  through  the  treatise  be- 
fore us,  we  must  constantly  keep  in  mind  its  connexion 
with  this  great  master  principle.  The  way  to  abound 
in  the  effects  is  to  increase  the  power  of  the  cause. 

5.  We  are  to  recollect,  that  these  properties  are  to 
be  expected  only  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  Iqvi 
itself  exists  in  the  heart. 

On  reading  this  chapter,  and  seeing  what  is  required 
of  the  Christian,  and  comparing  it  with  the  usual  con- 


V.  «8 

duct  of  religious  people,  we  feel  almost  involuntarily 
led  to  say,  "  If  this  be  love,  where  then,  except  in 
heaven,  is  it  to  be  found]"  To  this  I  reply,  the  apostle 
does  not  say  that  every  man  who  pretends  to  this  virtue 
acts  thus ;  nor  does  he  say  that  every  one  who  pos- 
sesses it  acts  thus  in  all  instances,  but  that  love  itself 
does  it.  This  is  the  way  in  which  it  acts,  when  allowed 
to  exert  its  own  energies ;  if  it  were  suffered  to  have 
its  full  scope,  and  to  bear  sway  in  us  without  any 
check,  this  would  be  the  invariable  effect :  our  not  see- 
ing, therefore,  a  perfect  exemplification  of  this  prin- 
ciple, is  no  proof  that  it  does  not  possess  these  proper- 
ties, but  only  that  we  are  imperfectly  under  its  influ- 
ence. This  branch  of  piety,  like  every  other,  may  be 
possessed  in  various  degrees ;  and,  of  course,  it  is  only 
in  proportion  as  we  possess  the  disposition  that  we  shall 
manifest  its  operations.  This  should  prepare  us  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  utter  want  and  the  weakness  of 
love ;  a  distinction  necessary  from  our  proneness  to 
despondency  in  reference  to  ourselves,  and  to  censori- 
ousness  in  reference  to  our.  neighbours. 


ff 


^  # 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    MEEKNESS    OF   LOVE. 


**  Charity  sufiereth  long — is  not  easily  proToked." 


•  I  CLASS  these  two  together,  because  they  bear  a  near 
affinity  to  each  other.  The  word  m  the  original  trans- 
lated "  sufFereth  long,"  signifies  "  to  have  a  long  mind," 
to  the  end  of  whose  patience,  provocations  cannot  ea- 
sily reach.  It  does  not  mean  patience  in  reference  to 
the  afflictions  which  come  from  God,  but  to  the  injuries 
and  provocations  which  come  from  man— perhaps  the 
most  correct  idea  which  we  can  attach  to  it  is,  forbear- 
ance; a  disposition  which,  under  long  continued  of- 
fences, holds  back  anger,  and  is  not  hasty  to  punish  or 
to  revenge.  Its  kindred  property,  here  classed  with  it, 
is  nearly  allied  to  it,  "  is  not  easily  provoked,"  or  "  is 
not  exasperated."  The  word  signifies  a  violent  emo- 
tion of  the  mind,  a  paroxysm  of  anger ;  so  that  the 
distinction  between  the  two  terms  appears  to  be  this, — 
the  property  intended  by  the  latter  seems  to  be  the 
power  of  love  to  curb  our  wrath,  and  that  intended  by 
the  former  its  ability  to  repress  revenge. 

There  are  three  things  which  Christian  love,  in  re- 
ference to  the  irascible  passions,  will  prevent. 


60  , 

1.  An  irritable  B.nd  petulant  Aisiposition.  There  is.  in 
some  persons  an  excessive  liability  to  be  offended ;  a 
morbid  sensibility,  which  is  kindled  to  anger  by  the 
least  possible  injury,  whether  that  injury  be  intentional 
or  unintentional.  They  are  all  combustible,  and  ignite 
by  a  spark.  A  word,  nay  a  look,  is  enough  to  inflame 
them.  They  are  ever  ready  to  quarrel  with  any,  or 
every  body ;  and  remind  us  of  what  Cromwell  said  of 
John  Lilburne,  "  that  he  was  so  quarrelsome,  that  if  he 
could  find  nobody  else  to  quarrel  with,  John  would 
quarrel  with  Lilburne,  and  Lilburne  with  John."  The 
whole  soul  seems  one  entire  sensitiveness  of  offence. 
Instead  of  "  suffering  long,"  they  do  not  suffer  at  all ; 
and  instead  of  not  being  easily  provoked,  they  are  pro- 
voked by  anything,  and  sometimes  by  nothing.  Love 
will  prevent  all  tliis,  and  produce  a  disposition  the  very 
reverse.  It  is  concerned  for  the  happiness  of  others ; 
and  will  not  wantonly  afflict  them,  and  render  them 
wretched,  by  such  an  exhibition  of  unlovely  and  un- 
christian temper.  It  will  remove  this  diseased  sensibi- 
lity, and,  without  blunting  the  natural  feelings,  will  calm 
this  sinful  excitability.  Many  things  it  will  not  see  or 
hear — judging  them  quite  beneath  its  dignity  to  notice ; 
others  it  will  pass  by,  as  not  of  sufficient  consequence 
to  require  explanation.  It  will  keep  a  strict  guard  over 
its  feelings,  holding  the  rein  with  a  tight  hand.  Its 
first  business  is  with  the  disposition  itself.  This  is  im- 
portant for  us  to  notice  ;  for  if  we  indulge  the  feeling 
of  anger,  it  will  be  impossible  to  smother  the  flame  in 
our  bosom  ;  like  the  burning  materials  of  a  volcano,  it 
will  at  length  burst  out  in  fiery  eruptions.  Here,  then, 
is  our  first  object :  to  gain  that  forbearance  of  disposi- 
tion, which  docs  not  allow  itself  to  be  irritated  or 
soured ;  to  acquire  that  command,  not  only  over  our 
words  and  actions,  but  over  our  emotions,  which  shall 
make  us  patient  and  tranquil  amidst  insults  and  inju- 
ries— which  shall  keep  down  the  temperament  of  the 
soul,  and  preserve  the  greatest  coolness.  Irritability, 
I  know,  is  in  part  a  physical  quality ;  but  it  is  in 
our  power,  by  God's  help  to  calm  it.     Love  will  mak« 


ef 

us  willing  to  think  the  best  of  those  with  whom  we  have 
to  do ;  it  will  disarm  us  of  that  suspicion  and  mistrust, 
which  make  us  regard  every  body  as  intending  to  injure 
us ;  will  cause  us  to  find  out  pleas  for  those  who  have 
done  us  harm,  and  when  this  is  impossible,  will  lead  us 
to  pity  their  weakness  or  forgive  their  wickedness. 

What  an  enemy  to  himself  is  an  irritable  man !  He  is 
a  self-tormentor  of  the  worst  kind.  He  is  scarcely  ever 
at  peace.  His  bosom  is  always  in  a  state  of  tumult.  To 
him  the  calm  sunshine  of  the  breast  is  unknown.  A 
thousand  petty  vexations  disturb  his  repose.  Unhappy 
man,  even  though  he  so  far  succeed,  as  to  restrain  the 
agitations  of  his  mind  from  bursting  out  into  passion,  yet 
has  he  the  burning  sense  of  torment  within.  Regard 
to  his  own  happiness,  as  well  as  to  the  happiness  of 
others,  calls  upon  him  to  cultivate  that  love,  which 
shall  allay  the  inflammatory  state  of  his  mind,  and  re- 
store a  soundness  which  will  not  be  thus  wounded  by 
every  touch. 

2.  The  next  thing  which  love  prevents,  is  immoderate 
anger ;  that  anger  which  the  apostle  has  described  in 
the  expression  we  are  now  elucidating,  as  amounting  to 
a  paroxysm  of  wrath ;  or  which,  in  ordinary  language, 
we  call  "  being  in  a  passion."  It  would  be  to  oppose 
both  reason  and  revelation,  to  assert  that  all  anger  is 
sin.  "  Be  ye  angry,"  saith  the  apostle,  "  and  sin  not." 
**  A  violent  suppression  of  the  natural  feelings  is  not, 
perhaps,  the  best  expedient  for  obviating  their  injurious 
effects  ;  and  though  nothing  requires  a  more  vigilant 
restraint  than  the  emotion  of  anger,  the  uneasiness  of 
which  it  is  productive  is,  perhaps,  best  allayed  by  its 
natural  and  temperate  expression  ;  not  to  say  that  it  is  a 
wise  provision  in  the  economy  of  nature,  for  the  ex- 
pression of  injury  and  the  preservation  of  the  peace 
and  decorum  of  society."  A  wise  and  temperate  ex- 
pression of  our  displeasure  against  injuries  or  offences, 
is  by  no  means  incompatible  with  Christian  love ;  this 
grace  intending  only  to  check  those  furious  sallies  of 
our  wrath,  which  are  tormenting  to  ourselves  and  inju- 
rious to  those  with  whom  we  have  to  do.     Sinful  angei^ 

7  '  . 


6» 

is  lamentably  common,  and  is  not  sufficiently  subdued 
among  the  professors  of  religion.  In  cases  of  offence, 
they  are  too  often  excited  to  criminal  degrees  of  passion ; 
their  countenance  is  flushed,  their  brow  lowers,  their 
eye  darts  indignant  flashes,  and  their  tongue  pours  forth 
loud  and  stormy  words  of  reviling  accusations.  To  di- 
minish and  prevent  this  disposition,  let  us  dwell  much 
upon  the  evil  consequences  of  it. 

It  disturbs  our  peace,  and  interrupts  our  happiness  ; 
and  this  is  an  evil  about  which  we  ought  not  to  be  in- 
dififerent.  A  passionate  man  cannot  be  a  happy  man ; 
he  is  the  victim  of  a  temper,  which,  Uke  a  serpent,  dwells 
in  his  bosom  to  sting  and  torment  him. 

It  destroys  the  comfort  of  those  with  whom  he  has  to 
do :  his  children  often  bear  the  fury  of  the  tempest ; 
his  wife  has  her  cup  of  conjugal  felicity  embittered  by 
the  venom ;  his  servants  tremble  as  at  the  rage  of  a  ty- 
rant ;  and  those  with  whom  he  transacts  the  business  of 
this  life  dread  the  gusts  of  his  passion,  by  which  they 
have  often  been  rendered  uncomfortable.  He  is  a 
common  disturber  of  the  circle  in  which  he  moves. 

It  interrupts  his  enjoyment  of  religion,  brings  guilt 
upon  his  conscience,  and  unfits  him  for  the  season  and 
the  act  of  communion  with  God.  A  beautiful  illustra- 
tion of  this  part  of  the  subject  may  be  here  introduced 
from  one  of  the  most  striking  of  English  writers : — 
"  Prayer  is  the  peace  of  our  spirit,  the  stillness  of  our 
thoughts,  the  evenness  of  recollection,  the  seat  of  medi- 
tation, the  rest  of  our  cares, -and  the  calm  of  our  tem- 
pest ;  prayer  is  the  issue  of  a  quiet  mind,  of  untroubled 
thoughts ;  it  is  the  daughter  of  charity,  and  the  sister  of 
meekness :  and  he  that  prays  to  God  with  an  angry, 
that  is,  with  a  troubled  and  discomposed  spirit,  is  like 
him  that  retires  into  a  battle  to  meditate,  and  sets  up 
his  closet  in  the  out-quarters  of  an  army,  and  chooses 
a  frontier  garrison  to  be  wise  in.  Anger  is  a  perfect 
alienation  of  the  mind  from  prayer,  and,  therefore,  is 
contrary  to  that  attention  which  presents  our  prayers 
in  a  riglit  line  to  God.  For  so  have  I  seen  a  lark  ri- 
sing from  his  bed  of  grass,  and  soaring  upwards,  singing 


ei 

as  he  rises,  and  hopes  to  get  to  heaven,  and  climb  above 
the  clouds :  but  the  poor  bird  was  beaten  back  with  the 
loud  sighings  of  an  eastern  wind,  and  his  motion  made 
irregular  and  inconstant — descending  more  at  every 
breath  of  the  tempest,  than  it  could  recover  by  the  libra- 
tion  and  frequent  weighing  of  his  wings ;  till  the  little 
creature  was  forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and  stay  till 
the  storm  was  over,  and  then  it  made  a  prosperous 
flight,  and  did  rise  and  sing  as  if  it  had  learned  music 
and  motion  from  an  angel,  as  he  passed  sometimes 
through  the  air  about  his  ministries  here  below.  So  is 
the  prayer  of  a  good  man  :  when  his  affairs  have  requi- 
red business,  and  his  business  was  matter  of  discipline, 
and  his  discipline  was  to  pass  upon  a  sinning  person,  or 
had  a  design  of  charity ;  his  duty  met  with  the  infirmi- 
ties of  a  man,  and  anger  was  its  instrument ;  and  the 
instrument  became  stronger  than  the  prime  agent,  and 
i-aised  a  tempest,  and  overruled  the  man ;  and  then  his 

Erayer  was  broken,  and  his  thoughts  were  troubled,  and 
is  words  went  up  towards  a  cloud,  and  his  thoughts 
pulled  them  back  again,  and  made  them  without  inten- 
tion :  and  the  good  man  sighs  for  his  infirmity,  but  must 
be  content  to  lose  the  prayer ;  and  he  must  recover  it 
when  his  anger  is  removed,  and  his  spirit  is  becalmed — 
made  even  as  the  brow  of  Jesus  and  smooth  as  the  heart 
of  God ;  and  then  it  ascends  to  heaven  upon  the  wings 
of  the  holy  dove,  and  dwells  with  God,  till  it  returns, 
like  the  useful  bee,  laden  with  a  blessing  and  the  dew 
of  heaven."* 

Sinful  anger  dishonours  religion,  and  causes  the  ways 
of  godhness  to  be  spoken  ill  of.  The  mists  of  passion 
envelope  religion  with  a  dense  medium,  through  which 
its  lustre  is  but  dimly  seen.  A  passionate  Christian  is 
an  object  of  sport  to  the  profane,  a  butt  of  ridicule  to 
fools,  whose  scorn  is  reflected  from  him  upon  piety  itself. 
But,  perhaps,  it  will  be  said,  "  Tell  us  how  we  may 
cure  the  disposition  ;  its  existence  we  admit,  and  its  evil 
we  know  by  experience,  and  deplore."     I  say,  then, 

*  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor. 


64 

Look  at  the  disposition  as  it  really  is,  attentively  con- 
sider its  evil  nature,  and  trace  its  mischievous  conse- 
quences. "  Anger  sets  the  house  on  fire,  and  all  the 
spirits  are  busy  upon  trouble,  and  intend  propulsion  and 
defence,  displeasure,  and  revenge  ;  it  is  a  short  mad- 
ness, and  an  eternal  enemy  to  discourse,  and  sober 
counsels,  and  fair  conversation  ;  it  is  a  fever  in  the 
heart,  and  a  calenture  in  the  head,  and  a  fire  in  the 
face,  and  a  sword  in  the  hand,  and  a  fury  all  over.  It 
hath  in  it  the  trouble  of  sorrow,  and  the  heats  of  lust, 
and  the  disease  of  revengC;  and  the  bodings  of  a  fever, 
and  the  rashness  of  precipitancy,  and  the  disturbance  of 
persecution.  If  it  proceed  from  a  great  cause,  it  turns 
to  fury ;  if  from  a  small  cause,  it  is  peevishness :  and 
so  it  is  always  terrible  or  ridiculous.  It  makes  a  man's 
body  deformed  aud  contemptible,  the  voice  horrid,  the 
eyes  cruel,  the  face  pale  or  fiery,  the  gait  fierce.  It  is 
neither  manly  nor  ingenuous,  and  is  a  passion  fitter  for 
flies  and  wasps  than  for  persons  professing  nobleness 
and  bounty.  It  is  a  confluence  of  all  the  irregular  pas- 
sons.  There  is  in  it  envy  and  scorn,  fear  and  sorrow, 
pride  and  prejudice,  rashness  and  inconsideration,  re- 
joicing in  evil,  and  a  desire  to  inflict  it."* 

Such  is  the  portraiture  of  this  disposition,  drawn  by 
the  hand  of  no  mean  artist.  Let  the  passionate  man 
look  at  the  picture,  and  learn  to  hate  it ;  for,  like  an  in- 
furiated serpent,  it  need  only  be  seen  to  be  abhorred. 

Let  us  reject  all  excuses  for  the  indulgence  of  it ;  for  so 
long  as  we  palliate  it,  we  shall  not  attempt  to  mortify 
it  It  cannot  be  defended,  either  on  the  ground  of 
constitutional  tendency,  or  the  greatness  of  the  provo- 
cation, or  the  suddenness  of  the  offence,  or  the  tran- 
sient duration  of  the  fit,  or  that  there  is  less  evil  in  gusts 
of  anger  than  in  seasons  of  suUenness :  no — nothing 
can  justify  it :  and  if  we  are  sincere  in  our  desires  to 
control  it,  we  shall  admit  that  it  is  indefensible  and 
criminal,  and  condemn  it  without  hesitation  or  ex- 
tenuation, 

*  fiUt)op  Jeremy  TajriQr, 


We  must  be  persuaded  that  it  is  possible  to  control  it ; 
for  if  we  despair  of  victory,  we  shall  not  engage  in  the 
conflict.     Hope  of  success  is  essential  to  success  itself. 

It  is  certain  that  by  using  right  means  a  hasty  tem- 
per may  be  subdued,  for  it  has  been  conquered  in  very 
many  instances.  It  is  said  of  Socrates,  the  wisest 
and  most  virtuous  of  heathen  sages,  that  in  the  midst  of 
domestic  vexations  and  public  disorders,  he  maintained 
such  an  undisturbed  serenity,  that  he  was  never  seen 
to  leave  his  own  house  or  return  to  it  with  a  ruffled 
countenance.  If  on  any  occasion  he  felt  a  propensity 
to  anger,  he  checked  the  rising  storm  by  lowering  the 
tone  of  his  voice,  and  resolutely  assuming  a  more  than 
usual  gentleness  of  aspect  and  manner.  He  not  only 
refrained  from  acts  of  revenge,  but  triumphed  over  his 
adversaries,  by  disregarding  the  insults  and  injuries  they 
offered  him.  This  was  more  remarkable,  as  in  acqui- 
ring this  dominion  over  his  passions,  he  had  to  struggle 
against  natural  propensities  which  ran  in  an  opposite 
direction.  Zophyrus,  an  eminent  physiognomist,  de- 
clared that  he  discovered  in  the  features  of  the  philoso- 
pher evident  traces  of  many  vicious  inclinations :  the 
friends  of  Socrates,  who  were  present,  ridiculed  the 
ignorance  of  this  pretender  to  extraordinary  sagacity ; 
but  the  Sage  ingenuously  acknowledged  the  penetration 
of  Zophyrus,  and  confessed  that  he  was  naturally 
prone  to  vice,  but  that  he  had  subdued  his  inclinations  by 
the  power  of  reason  and  philosophy.  Let  professing 
Christians  learn,  from  this  distinguished  heathen,  that  it 
is  possible  to  subdue  natural  temper,  however  bad  and 
however  violent  it  may  be. 

Make  its  cure  a  matter  of  desire.  What  we  ardently 
long  for,  we  shall  vigorously  pursue.  Confess  your 
sin  :  frankly  say,  "  I  am  indeed  too  irritable,  too  pas- 
sionate, too  revengeful.  I  see  the  sinfulness  of  indulg- 
ing such  a  temper ;  1  am  disturbed  and  disgraced  by  it ; 
and  by  God's  help  I  will  subdue  it.  I  will  spare  no 
pains,  shrink  from  no  sacrifice,  be  discouraged  by  no 
defeat,  till  I  gain  the  victory  over  myself." 

Meditate  upon  the  patience  of  God^  who  bears  with 
7* 


your  innumerable  offences  against  Him^  and  forgives 
them  all.  Consider  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  who 
meekly  "  endured  the  contradiction  of  sinners  against 
lumself ;  and  amidst  ingratitude,  insults,  and  provoca- 
tions of  the  basest  kind,  was  mild  as  the  morning  sun 
in  autumn." 

Seek  to  acquire  a  habit  of  self-control — a  power  over 
your  feelings,  which  shall  enable  you  to  be  ever  on 
your  guard,  and  to  repress  the  first  emotions  of  passion. 
If  possible,  seal  your  lips  in  silence  when  the  storm  is 
rising :  shut  up  your  anger  in  your  own  bosom,  and,  like 
fire  that  wants  air  and  vent,  it  will  soon  expire.  Angry 
words  often  prove  a  fan  to  the  spark  :  many  persons, 
who  in  the  beginning  are  but  slightly  displeased,  talk 
themselves  at  length  into  a  violent  passion.  Never 
speak  till  you  are  cool ;  the  man  who  can  command 
his  tongue,  will  find  no  difiiculty  in  governing  his  spirit. 
And  when  you  do  speak,  let  it  be  in  meekness :  "  a 
soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath."  When  you  see 
others  angry,  let  it  be  an  admonition  to  you  to  be  cool ; 
thus  you  will  receive  the  furious  indiscretions  of  others, 
like  a  stone  into  a  bed  of  moss,  where  it  will  lie  quietly 
without  rebounding. 

Stop  your  anger  in  the  beginning.  It  is  easier  to  put 
out  a  spark  than  a  conflagration.  It  would  be  well 
always  to  terminate  the  conversation,  and  quit  the  com- 
pany of  an  individual,  when  anger  is  creeping  in. 
"  Go  from  the  presence  of  a  foolish  man,  when  thou 
perceivest  not  in  him  the  lips  of  knowledge." 

tivoid  disputationSj  which  often  engender  strifes  ;  and 
especially  avoid  them  in  reference  to  persons  of  known 
irritability.  Who  would  contend  with  a  snake  or  a 
hornet ] 

Brood  not  over  injuries ;  "  Else,"  says  Mr.  Baxter, 
"  you  will  be  devils  to  yourselves,  tempt  yourselves 
when  you  have  no  others  to  tempt  you,  and  make  your 
solitude  as  dangerously  provoking  as  company."* 

*  Baxter's  Catholic  Directions ;  from  ^hich  vast  Tund  of  practictl 
theology,  many  of  the  particulars  of  this  chapter  are  derived. 


67 

Beware  of  tale-hearers^  and  do  not  suffer  their  reports 
to  rouse  your  resentments. 

"  Be  not  inquisitive  into  the  affairs  of  other  men,  nor 
the  faults  of  thy  servants,  nor  the  mistakes  of  thy 
friends ;  lest  thou  go  out  to  gather  sticks  to  kindle  a 
fire,  which  shall  burn  thine  own  house." 

Look  at  others  who  are  addicted  to  passion,  and  see 
how  unlovely  they  appear. 

Commission  some  faithful  and  affectionate  friend  to 
watch  over  and  admonish  you. 

But  especially  mortify  pride  and  cultivate  humility, 
— "  Only  by  pride  cometh  contention."  "  He  that  is 
of  a  proud  heart,  stirreth  up  strife."  Passion  is  the 
daughter  of  pride,  meekness  the  offspring  of  humility. 
Humility  is  the  best  cure  for  anger,  sullenness,  and  re- 
venge. He  that  thinks  much  of  himself,  will  think 
much  of  every  little  offence  committed  against  him ; 
while  he  that  thinks  little  of  his  own  importance,  will 
think  lightly  of  what  is  done  to  offend  him.  Every 
irritable,  passionate,  or  revengeful  person,  is  certainly 
a  proud  one,  and  should  begin  the  cure  of  his  passion 
by  the  removal  of  his  pride. 

But  we  need  go  no  further  than  the  chapter  before 
us,  for  an  antidote  to  anger.  Love  is  sufficient  of 
itself;  we  must  seek  to  have  more  of  this  heavenly 
virtue.  Love  cannot  be  either  passionate  or  revenge- 
ful. Love  is  full  of  benevolence  and  good-will,  and 
therefore  cannot  allow  itself  to  indulge  those  tempers 
which  are  unfriendly  to  the  happiness  of  mankind. 
Let  us  seek  to  strengthen  this  parent  principle,  which 
will  prevent  the  growth  of  whatever  is  evil,  and  pro- 
mote the  advancement  of  all  that  is  excellent. 

One  caution  may  here  be  suggested  for  the  encour- 
agement of  those  who  are  particularly  tried  with  an 
irritable  temper,  and  that  is — not  to  despond ;  if,  in 
the  work  of  mortification,  they  meet  with  many  de- 
feats, do  not  be  in  a  passion  with  yourselves,  for  being 
in  a  passion,  for  this  will  only  increase  the  evil  you  are 
anxious  to  destroy.  Go  calmly,  yet  courageously,  to 
the  conflict ;  if  victorious  be  not  elated,  if  defeated  be 


68 

not  disheartened.  Often  you  will  have  to  mourn  your 
failures,  and  sometimes  be  ready  to  imagine  that  you 
are  doomed  to  the  hopeless  task  of  Sysiphus,  whose 
stone  always  rolled  back  again,  when,  by  immense  la- 
bour, he  had  urged  it  nearly  to  the  summit  of  the  hilL 
Do  not  expect  an  easy  or  a  perfect  conquest.  Mourn 
your  defeats,  but  do  not  despair.  Many,  after  a  few 
unsuccessful  efforts,  give  up  the  cause,  and  abandon 
themselves  to  the  tyranny  of  their  passions.  In  this 
conflict,  unsuccessful  struggles  are  more  honourable 
than  unresisting  submission. 

3.  Love  will  of  course  prevent  revenge.  - 

Revenge  is  a  term  that  a  Christian  should  blot  out 
from  his  vocabulary  with  his  own  penitential  tears,  or 
with  the  drops  of  his  gratitude  for  the  pardon  he  has 
received  from  God.  There  is  no  passion  more  hostile 
to  the  very  genius  of  Christianity,  or  more  frequently 
forbidden  by  its  authority,  than  this  ;  and  there  is  none 
to  which  the  depravity  of  human  nature  more  power- 
fully excites  us.  The  volume  of  history  is  stained, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  with  the  blood  which  has 
been  shed  by  the  demon  of  revenge.  Mankind,  in 
every  age  and  country,  have  groaned  under  the  misery 
inflicted  by  this  restless  and  cruel  spirit,  which  no  mis- 
chief can  satisfy,  no  suffering  appease.  Revenge  has 
converted  men  into  wild  beasts,  and  inspired  them  with 
a  wish  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces.  It  is  not  likely 
that  such  a  temper  as  this  would  meet  with  the  least 
toleration  or  sanction  in  the  religion  of  the  meek  and 
lowly  Jesus,  whose  person  was  an  incarnation,  and 
whose  Gospel  is  an  emanation,  of  love.  Revenge  is 
admitted  by  some  as  justifiable  to  a  certain  extent :  by 
the  reasoning  and  conduct  of  the  world,  the  principle 
is  allowed,  yea  honoured,  and  only  condemned  in  its 
most  vicious  excess.  Wars,  duels,  railings,  private 
animosities,  that  do  not  infringe  on  the  peace  of  so- 
ciety, are  all  justified  on  this  ground.  Mankind  alter 
the  golden  rule,  and  do  unto  others,  not  as  they  would 
that  others  slwuld  do,  but  as  others  do  unto  them  in  a 
way  of  evil ;  and  this,  so  far  from  being  blamed,  is 


60 

generally  applauded  as  honourable  and  dignified.  In 
the  estimate  of  the  people  of  the  world,  the  man  who 
refuses  to  resent  an  injury  which  he  has  received,  is  a 
poor  mean-spirited  creature,  unworthy  to  associate 
with  men  of  honour. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  maxims  of  the  world,  re- 
venge is  certainly  forbidden  by  every  page  of  the  Word 
of  God.  "  The  discretion  of  a  man  deferreth  his  anger, 
and  it  is  his  glory  to  pass  over  a  transgression."  Pri- 
vate revenge  was  certainly  forbidden  under  the  Old 
Testament,  and  still  more  explicitly  under  the  New. 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,"  said  our  Lord,  "  for 
theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  "  Blessed  are  the 
meek,  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth."  "  Ye  have 
heard  that  it  hath  been  said.  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth :  but  I  say  unto  you.  That  ye  resist 
not  evil.  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said.  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbour,  and  hate  thine  enemy :  but  I 
say  unto  you.  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse 
you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  thetti 
that  despitefuUy  use  you,  and  persecute  you ;  that  ye 
may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 
The  same  sentiments  are  enjoined  by  the  apostles. 
"  Recompense  to  no  man  evil  for  evil.  If  it  be  possi- 
ble, as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably  with  all  men. 
Dearly  beloved,  avenge  not  yourselves,  but  rather  give 
place  unto  wrath  :  for  it  is  written,  Vengeance  is  mine ; 
I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord.  Therefore,  if  thine  enemy 
hunger,  feed  him  ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink  ;  for  in 
so  doing  thou  shalt  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  head.  Be 
not  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good*" 
These  passages  are  decisive  upon  the  point,  that  revenge 
in  any  form,  or  in  any  measure,  is  forbidden  by  the 
Christian  religion. 

The  misfortune  of  many  is,  that  they  mistake  the 
meaning  of  the  term  revenge — or  rather  they  confine  its 
application  to  the  grosser,  more  mischievous,  and  more 
violent  expressions  of  wrath :  they  think  that  nothing  is 
revenge  but  cutting  or  maiming  the  person,  openly 
slandering  the  reputation,  or  wantonly  injuring  the  pro- 


70 


i 


perty.  Such,  it  must  be  admitted,  are  fearful  ebullitions 
of  this  destructive  passion  ;  but  they  are  not  the  only 
ways  in  which  it  expresses  itself.  There  are  a  thou- 
sand petty  acts  of  spite  and  ill  will,  by  which  a  revenge- 
ful spirit  may  operate.  If  we  refuse  to  speak  to  another 
by  whom  we  have  been  injured,  and  pass  him  with  silent 
or  manifest  scorn";  if  we  'take  delight  in  talking  of  liis 
failings,  and  in  lowering  him  in  the  opinion  of  others ; 
if  we  show  ill  will  to  his  chiklren  or  relations  on  his  ac- 
count :  if  we  watch  for  an  opportunity  to  perform  some 
little  act  of  annoyance  towards  him,  and  feel  gratified 
in  the  thought  that  we  have  given  him  trouble  or  pain  ;— 
all  this  is  done  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation,  and  is  as  truly, 
though  not  so  dreadfully,  the  actings  of  revenge,  as  if 
we  proceeded  to  inflict  bodily  injury.  The  spirit  of  re- 
venge simply  means  returning  evil  for  evil,  and  taking 
pleasure  in  doing  so.  It  may  go  to  the  extremes  of 
calumny  and  murder,  or  may  confine  itself  to  the  inflic- 
tion of  minor  wrongs  ;  but  if  we,  in  any  way,  resent  an 
injury  with  ill  will  towards  the  persons  who  committed 
it,  this  is  revenge. 

A  question  will  here  arise,  whether,  according  to  this 
view,  we  are  not  forbidden  to  defend  our  persons,  our 
property,  and  our  reputation,  from  the  aggressions  of 
lawless  mischief?  Certainly  not.  If  an  assassin  attempt 
to  maim  or  to  murder  me,  I  am  allowed  to  resist  the  at- 
tack, even  to  extremity ;  for  this  is  not  avenging  an  evil, 
but  an  effort  to  prevent  one.  If  our  character  in  socie- 
ty be  aspersed,  we  must  endeavour,  by  peaceful  means, 
to  gain  an  apology  and  exculpation;  and  if  this  cannot 
be  obtained,  we  are  authorized  to  appeal  to  the  law : 
for,  if  calumny  were  not  punished,  society  could  not  ex- 
ist. If,  however,  instead  of  appealing  to  the  law,  we 
were  to  calumniate  in  return ;  if  we  were  to  inflict  bodi- 
ly injury  on  the  aggressor,  or  take  delight  in  injuring 
him  in  other  ways ; — this  would  be  revenge  ;  but  to  seek 
the  protection  of  the  law,  without",  at  the  same  time,  in»- 
dulging  in  malice, — this  is  self-defence,  and  the  defence 
of  society.  If  we  are  injured,  or  are  likely  to  be  injUf 
red,  m  our  property,  we  must  try,  by  all  private  and 


71 

honourable  means,  to  prevent  the  aggression ;  be  willing 
to  settle  the  affair  by  the  mediation  of  wise  and  impar- 
tial men,  and  keep  our  minds  free  from  anger,  ill  will, 
and  malice,  towards  the  aggressors :  and,  as  a  last  re- 
source, we  are  justifiable  in  submitting  the  cause,  if  it 
cannot  be  settled  by  any  other  means,  to  the  decision 
of  a  court  of  justice.  No  Christian  should  resort  to  the 
tribunal  of  public  justice  till  every  method  of  private 
adjustment  has  failed. 

As  it  respects  the  propriety  of  Christians  going  to 
law  with  each  other,  the  testimony  of  the  apostle  is  deci- 
sive.    "  Dare  any  of  you,  having  a  matter  against 
another,  to  go  to  law  before  the  unjust,  and  not  before 
the  saints  1  Do  ye  not  know  that  the  saints  shall  judge 
the  world  1  and  if  the  world  shall  be  judged  by  you,  are 
ye  unworthy  to  judge  the  smallest  matters  ?   Know  ye 
not  that  we  shall  judge  angels  1  how  much  more  things 
that  pertain  to  this  life  1  If  then  ye  have  judgments  of 
things  pertaining  to  this  life,  set  them  to  judge  who  are 
least  esteemed  in  the  Church.     I  speak  to  your  shame. 
Is  ft  so,  that  there  is  not  a  wise  man  among  you  1  no, 
not  one  that  shall  be  able  to  judge  between  his  bre- 
thren 1  But  brother  goeth  to  law  with  brother,  and  that 
before  the  unbelievers.     Now,  therefore,  there  is  ut- 
terly a  fault  among  you,  because  ye  go  to  law  one  with 
another.     Why  do  ye  not  rather  take  wrong?  why  do 
i  ye  not  rather  suffer  yourselves  to  be  defrauded  1"  Men 
1  professing  godliness,  especially  members  of  the  same 
I  religious  community,   ought,   in   cases   of  difference 
about  property  or  character,  to  settle  all  their  disputes 
by  the  mediation  of  their  own  brethren  ;  and  if  either 
party  decline  such  arbitration,  he  must  be  accountable 
for  all  the  scandal- thrown  on  the  Christian  profession 
:  by  the  legal  measures  to  which  the  other  may  find  it 
necessary  to  resort  for  the  protection  of  his  rights.     In 
this  case,  the  guilt  of  infringing  the  apostolic  regulation 
lies  on  him  who  refuses  to  accede  to  this  scriptural 
method  of  settling  the  differences  that  may  arise  among 
those  who  profess  to  be  the  disciples  of  Christ.     What- 
ever award  is  made,  in  the  case  of  private  arbitration, 


Hit 

both  parties  should  abide  by  it ;  nor  must  the  individual 
against  whom  the  decision  is  given,  feel  any  ill  will,  or 
cherish  any  revenge,  towards  his  successful  competitor. 
The  law  of  love  requires  that  innumerable  minor  of- 
fences should  be  passed  over  without  being  noticed,  or 
suffered  to  disturb  our  peace  of  mind.  And  those 
which  we  find  it  necessary  to  have  explained,  require 
the  utmost  caution  and  delicacy.  In  these  cases,  love 
will  lead  us  to  the  offender,  in  the  spirit  of  meekness,  to 
ask,  not  to  demand — to  solicit,  in  the  most  gentle  man- 
ner— an  explanation  of  the  injurious  treatment.  In  a 
great  majority  of  cases,  this  line  of  conduct  would  stifle 
the  animosity  while  it  is  yet  a  spark.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, we  permit  ourselves  to  take  offence,  and  have 
our  feelings  wounded,  or  our  anger  roused ;  if,  instead 
of  mildly  and  affectionately  expostulating,  and  seeking 
reconciliation,  we  brood  over  the  injury,  and  retire  in 
disgust,  to  indulge  in  sullenness,  or  to  watch  for  an  op- 
portunity of  revenge  ; — this  is  being  "  easily  provok- 
ed," and  the  very  opposite  of  "  suffering  long." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


ON    THE    KINDNESS    OP    LOVE. 


"Charity  is  kind." 


It  is  a  decisive  proof,  and  a  striking  display,  of  the 
excellence  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  it  enjoins  not 
only  the  loftier  and  more  rigid  excellences  of  the  hu- 
man character,  but  those  also  which  are  delicately 
amiable  and  tender ;  npt  only  the  masculine  virtues, 
but  the  feminine  graces';  in  short,  that  it  not  only  pre- 
pares its  possessor  to  be  a  patriot  on  the  great  theatre 
of  his  country,  or  a  spectacle  of  heroic  martyrdom  to 
God,  to  angels,  and  to  men, — but  a  sympathizing  friend 
in  the  social  and  domestic  circles.     Love  can  either 
expand  its  benevolence  to  the  claims  of  the  whole  hu- 
man family,  or  concentrate  its  emotions,  for  a  time,  in 
one  individual  object  of  pity,  or  affection.     "  Love  is 
kind."      Kindness  means  a  disposition  to  please — an 
anxiety,  manifested  by  our  conduct,  to  promote  the 
comfort  of  our  species.     Pity  commiserates  their  sor- 
rows, mercy  relieves  their  wants  and  mitigates  their 
woes;  but  kindness  is  a  general  attention  to  their  com- 
fort.    It  is  thus  described  and  distinguished  by  a  cele- 
brated writer  on  English  synonymes.      "The  terms 
affectionate  and  fond  characterize  feelings ;  kind  is  an 

8 


74 

epithet  applied  to  outward  actions,  as  well  as  mward 
feelings ;  a  disposition  is  affectionate  or  fond ;  a  be- 
haviour is  kind.  A  person  is  affectUmate,  who  has  the 
ofcject  of  his  regard  strongly  in  his  mind,  who  partici- 
pates in  his  pleasures  and  in  his  pains,  and  is  pleased 
with  his  society,  A  person  is  kind,  who  expresses  a 
tender  sentiment,  or  does  any  service  in  a  pleasant 
manner.  Relatives  should  be  affectionate  to  each 
other ;  we  should  be  kind  to  all  who  stand  in  need  of 
our  kindness."  Kindness,  then,  appears  to  be  an  af- 
fectionate behaviour.  This  is  what  the  apostle  means, 
when  he  admonishes  us  to  "be  kindly  affectioned  one 
to  another." 

Let  us  view  the  kind  man  in  contrast  with  some 
other  characters. 

He  is  opposed  to  the  rigid,  severe,  and  censoriom 
person,  who  will  make  no  allowance  for  the  infirmities 
or  inexperience  of  others ;  but  judges  harshly,  reproves 
sternly,  and  speaks  severely  of  all  who  do  not  come  up 
to  his  standard.  Kindness,  on  the  contrary,  makes  all 
reasonable  allowances,  frames  the  best  excuses  it  can, 
consistently  with  truth  and  holiness ;  speaks  of  the 
offender  in  a  way  of  mitigation,  and  to  him  in  a  way  of 
compassion ;  does  not  publish  nor  exaggerate  his  faults, 
and  endeavours  to  find  out  some  redeeming  qualities  to 
set  off  against  his  failings. 

A  kind  man  is  opposed  to  a  proud  and  overbearing 
one.  The  latter  is  ever  seeking  an  opportunity  to  dis- 
play his  superiority,  and  make  you  feel  your  inferiority ; 
and  cares  not  how  much  your  feelings  are  hurt  by  this 
offensive  exhibition  of  his  consequence.  Kindness,  if 
conscious,  as  it  sometimes  must  be,  of  its  superiority, 
takes  care  that  those  who  are  below  it  shall  not  feel  a 
painful  sense  of  their  inferiority.  Without  removing 
the  distinctions  of  social  life,  or  sacrificing  its  dignity, 
it  will  conceal  as  much  as  possible,  its  pre-eminence, 
or  unite  it  with  such  affability  as  shall  render  it  by  no 
means  unpleasant. 

Kindness  is  opposed  to  coldness  and  selfishness  of  dis- 
position.  There  are  persons  who,  though  neither  cruel. 


nor  injurious,  nor  really  hard-hearted,  are  yet  so  cold, 
and  distant,  and  retiring,  and  repulsive,  that  they  can 
neither  be  approached  nor  moved.  They  look  upon 
the  scenes  around  them  with  the  fixed  and  beamless 
eye,  the  chillness  and  quiescence,  of  the  statue,  for  they 
have  no  interest  in  the  concerns  of  the  world.  But 
kindness  is  the  visible  expression  of  a  feeling  and  mcF- 
ciful  heart ;  it  is  the  goings  forth  of  a  tender  and  sus- 
ceptible mind ;  it  claims  kindred  with  the  human  race ; 
it  is  all  ear  to  listen — all  heart  to  feel — all  eye  to  exa- 
mine and  to  weep — all  hand  and  foot  to  relieve  ;  it  in- 
vites the  sufferer  with  kind  words,  and  sends  him  not 
empty  away. 
■  Kindness  is  opposed  to  a  vain  and  ostentatious  liberal- 
ity. Some  will  be  charitable,  if  they  may  have  spec- 
tators of  their  good  deeds,  who  shall  go  and  proclaim 
their  alms  :  thus  the  weaknesses  of  human  nature  often 
come  in  the  place  of  duty,  and  supply  the  want  of  prin- 
ciple, though  certainly  without  any  advantage  to  their 
possessor.  They  spoil  the  action  by  their  mode  of 
performing  it ;  for  they  will,  in  the  most  indelicate 
manner,  make  the  object  of  their  bounty  feel  a  painful 
sense  of  obligation  :  they  will  state  the  exact  amount, 
almost  in  pecuniary  value,  of  the  favours  they  have 
conferred  ;  and  then  go  away  and  give  such  publicity 
to  their  doings,  that  the  beneficiary  is  almost  every- 
where sure  to  hear  of  what  has  been  done  for  him. 

Kindness  will,  on  the  other  hand,  conceal,  as  much 
as  possible,  that  it  is  actually  conferring  a  favour ;  will 
do  every  thing  to  cause  it  to  descend  lightly  upon  the 
spirit  of  the  recipient ;  and  would,  if  circumstances 
allowed,  gladly  extend  relief  from  behind  a  veil  which 
hides  the  giver,  and  does  every  thing  to  prevent  the 
sense  of  obligation  from  being  either  painful  or  oppres- 
sive. 

Kindness  is  opposed  to  the  benevolence  of  partiality, 
prejudice,  and  caprice.  There  are  not  a  few  who  are 
lavish  in  their  fondness  towards  persons  of  their  own 
party,  or  upon  those  who  happen  to  be  their  favourites 
for  the  time  j  but  for  any  beyond  their  own  circle  of 


76 

partizans,  or  of  their  aelect  friends,  they  have  none  of 
the  charities  of  life — ^their  benevolent  regards  ate  pure- 
ly sectarian,  or  absolutely  capricious.  But  kindness  is 
a  clear  perennial  spring,  rising  up  from  a  heart  replete 
with  universal  philanthropy,  holding  on  its  way,  unim- 
peded by  prejudices  or  partialities,  and  distributing  its 
benefits  alike  upon  all  that  it  meets  with  in  its  course. 

Having  thus  conti-asted  kindness  with  some  charac- 
teristics to  which  it  is  opposed,  let  us  now  consider  the 
manner  in  which  it  acts. 

It  expresses  itself  in  words  that  are  calculated  to 
please.  As  not  only  our  words,  but  the  tones  of  our 
voice,  are  indicative  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  it  is 
of  consequence  for  us  to  be  careful,  both  in  what  we 
say,  and  how  we  say  it.  Half  of  the  quarrels  which 
disturb  the  peace  of  society  arise  from  unkind  words, 
and  not  a  few  from  unkind  tones.  We  should  sedu- 
lously avoid  a  sour,  morose,  chiding  mode  of  speech, 
and  adopt  a  soothing,  conciliatory,  and  affectionate 
style  of  address.  A  surly  tone  is  calculated  to  wound 
or  offend,  and  love,  which  carries  the  law  of  kindness 
upon  its  lips,  will,  consequently,  avoid  it.  A  snappish, 
petulant,  scolding  address,  is  in  the  highest  degree  re- 
pulsive and  dissonant  in  the  intercourse  of  society. 
We  may  not  have,  it  is  true,  the  music  of  sound  in  our 
speech,  but  it  is  our  own  fault  if  we  have  not  the  music 
of  love.  We  need  not  employ  grimace,  fawning  syco- 
phancy, hollow  and  unmeaning  compliment,  but  we 
may  be  courteous,  and  affectionate  ;  and  we  ought  to 
"  let  our  speech^  be  seasoned  with  salt,  that  it  may 
minister  grace  to  the  hearers."  Every  word,  and 
every  modulation  of  the  voice,  that  is  likely  to  offend, 
should  be  studiously  avoided,  and  will  be  avoided  by 
kindness,  which  extends,  also,  to  actions.  It  is  anxious 
not  to  give  offence  by  any  thing"  which  it  does  :  it  is 
roost  delicately  tender  in  reference  to  the  feelings  of  its 
object,  and  would  not  unnecessarily  crush  the  wing  of 
an  insect,  much  less  inflict  a  wound  upon  a. rational 
mind.  There  arc  persons  who,  in  a  spirit  of  selfish 
independence,  care  not  whom  they  please,  or  whom 


77 

they  offend ;  but  love  is  as  anxious  not  to  offend,  as  it 
is  solicitous  about  its  own  gratification  :  its  neighbour's 
comfort  is  as  dear  to  it  as  his  own  :  it  calculates,  deli- 
berates, weighs  the  tendency  of  actions,  and,  when  by 
incaution,  or  pure  misfortune,  it  has  occasioned  dis- 
tress, it  hastens,  by  every  practicable  means,  to  heal 
the  wound. 

Kindness  not  only  abstains  from  actual  injury,  but  it 
is  active  in  conferring  benefits — watches  for  an  opportu- 
nity to  please — is  ever  ready  to  afford  its  assistance 
when  appealed  to, — and  is  not  satisfied,  unless  it  can 
do  something  to  increase  the  general  stock  of  comfort. 
It  accommodatesitself  to  their  habits,  partiaUties,  or  pre- 
judices ;  adapts  itself,  in  things  indifferent  and  lawful, 
to  their  modes  of  acting,  and  does  not  wantonly  oppose 
their  predilections,  when  such  resistance  would  occasion 
them  distress,  A  stiff,  uncomplying  behaviour,  which 
consults  nothing  but  its  own  humour,  and  which  will 
not  sacrifice  the  least  punctilio  of  its  own  habits,  to 
giv^e  pleasure,  has  not  a  particle  of  beneficence  about  it. 
Such  an  individual  is  like  a  person  in  a  crowd,  who 
udUI  walk  with  his  arms  stretched  out,  or  with  annoying 
weapons  in  his  hand. 

It  extends,  of  course,  to  little  things,  as  well  as  to 
great  ones.  The  happiness  or  misery  of  life  does  not 
consist  so  much  in  the  transport  of  joy,  or  the  anguish 
of  affliction,  as  in  feelings  of  an  inferior  kind — which, 
tliough  less  violent,  are  more  frequent  than  those  strong 
emotions.  Hence  it  is  in  our  power  to  make  others 
miserable  in  life ;  not,  perhaps,  by  deeds  of  cruelty  or 
injustice,  which  we  dare  not,  or  cannot  commit,  as  by 
indulging  in  unaccommodating  dispositions  towards  them 
— by  vexing  them  with  acts  of  unkindness,  which  will 
neither  blast  our  reputation,  nor  put  in  peril  our  pro- 
perty, liberty,  or  life :  and  it  is  also  in  our  power  to 
make  them  happy,  not  so  much  by  signal  and  material 
services,  which  are  seldom  called  for  at  our  hands,  as 
by  the  inferior  offices  of  benevolence.  The  daily,  and 
almost  hourly  reciprocity  of  little  acts  of  good  or  ill 
8* 


78 

will,  which  we  have  an  opportunity  of  performing,  go 
a  great  way  to  the  making  up  of  good  or  bad  neigh- 
bourhood. There  are  those  who,  in  the  greater  ex- 
pressions of  Christian  mercy,  are  really  humane ;  whose 
benevolence  at  the  same  time  has  not  learnt  to  stoop  to 
little  things :  they  are  compassionate,  but  they  want 
kindness  :  they  would  relieve  a  starving  beggar,  but 
they  would  not  put  themselves  in  ever  so  small  a  degree 
out  of  their  way,  to  accommodate,  in  trivial  matters,  a 
near  neighbour. 

Kindness  is  universal  in  its  objects.  We  have  known 
individuals  who  could  never  do  enough  for  some  objects 
of  their  regard,  but  they  are  by  no  means  persons  of 
diffusive  kindness ;  and,  perhaps,  if  we  examine,  we 
shall  find  that  their  benevolence  has  a  great  mixture  of 
selfishness  in  it,  for  it  is  exercised  only  towards  those 
from  whom  they  expect  an  ample  return.  It  is  the 
kindness  of  barter,  not  of  charity :  it  is  so  much  of 
their  comfort  put  out  at  interest,  not  given  away  to  the 
needy  ;  they  either  have  had,  or  expect  to  have,  value 
received  for  all  they  do.  But  love  is  universal  in  its  as- 
pect ;  it  is  ever  ready  to  do  a  kind  office  for  any  one  that 
either  sohcits  or  needs  its  assistance.  Its  language  is, 
"  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters." 
It  has  a  kind  look,  word,  and  act,  for  everybody.  Nor 
are  its  enemies  denied  the  assistance  of  its  efforts. 
Such  is  the  generous  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion,  as 
appears  from  the  passages  quoted  in  a  preceding  chap- 
ter. Such  is  the  refined,  the  sublime  morality  of  the 
New  Testament.  Yes,  these  are  the  principles  on 
which  kindness  acts :  it  extends  its  beneficence  to  the 
very  man  that  has  treated  it  with  contumely  and  scorn— 
with  cruelty,  insult,  and  oppression.  This  is  its  duty 
and  its  inclination.  In  imitation  of  the  dying  Saviour, 
who  gave  his  last  prayer  to  his  murderers,  it  says, 
•'  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do!" 

What  a  fascinating  character  is  the  man  of  distin- 
guished kindness!   he  is  invested  with  indescribable 


75 

loveliness :  he  may  not  have  the  glory  in  w^hich  the 
patriot,  the  hero,  or  the  martyr  is  enshrined  ;  but  he  is 
adorned  in  no  common  degree  w^ith  the  beauties  of 
holiness.  He  cames  about  with  him  the  majesty  of 
goodness,  if  not  the  dominion  of  greatness.  The  hght 
of  his  countenance  is  the  warm  sunshine,  to  which  the 
spirits  of  grief  repair  from  their  dark  retreats,  to  bask 
in  its  glow ;  and  his  gentle  words  are  like  soft  melody 
to  chase  away  the  evil  thoughts  from  the  bosom  of 
melancholy,  and  to  hush  to  peace  the  troubled  reflec- 
tions of  the  distempered  mind.  As  he  moves  along  his 
career,  distributing  the  unexpensive  but  efficient  expres- 
sions of  his  regards,  it  is  amidst  the  blessing  of  those 
that  are  ready  to  perish,  and  the  notes  of  the  widow's 
heart,  which  he  has  turned  to  joy.  When  he  comes 
unexpectedly  into  the  company  of  his  friends,  every 
countenance  puts  on  the  appearance  of  complacency, 
and  it  appears  as  if  a  good  genius  had  come  among 
them  to  bless  the  party ;  as  he  looks  round  on  the  cir- 
cle, with  a  smile  of  beneficence  that  has  found  an 
abiding  place  upon  his  brow,  he  presents  the  brightest 
resemblance  to  be  found  in  oar  selfish  world,  of  the 
entrance  of  the  Saviour  among  his  disciples,  when  he 
said,  "  Peace  be  unto  you  !"  and  breathed  upon  them 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Although  he  neither  seeks  nor 
wishes  an  equivalent,  in  return  for  his  many  acts  of 
benevolence,  his  gentle  spirit  receives  back,  in  a  full 
tide,  the  streams  of  consolation  which  had  ebbed  from 
his  own  heart  to  fill  the  empty  channels  of  his  neigh- 
bour's happiness.  Who  can  be  unkind  to  him,  who  is 
kind  to  all  1  What  heart  is  so  hard,  what  mind  is  so 
cruel,  what  spirit  is  so  diabolical,  as  to  wound  him,  who 
never  appears  among  his  race  but  as  a  ministering 
angel  1  There  is  a  magic  in  his  tears,  to  melt  to  sym- 
pathy the  stubborn  soul  of  cruelty  itself,  which  has  a 
tear  for  no  one  else  ;  and  no  less  a  magic  in  his  smiles, 
80  far  to  relax  and  soften  the  hard  features  of  envy, 
as  to  reflect  for  a  moment  the  sunshine  of  his  joy. 
While  he  lives,  every  man  is  his  admirer ;  and  when  he 


80 

dies,  every  man  is  his  mourner  :  while  he  is  on  earth, 
his  name  has  a  home  in  every  heart ;  and  when  he  is 
gone,  he  has  a  monument  in  every  memory : — and  this 
is  the  description  of  his  character — ^the  record  of  his 
praise  :   Love  is  kind  ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE    CONTENTMENT    OF    LOVE. 


'  Charity  envieth  not." 


Envy  is  that  passion,  which  causes  us  to  feel  un- 
easiness at  the  sight  of  another's  possessions  or  hap- 
piness, and  which  makes  i£  dislike  him  on  that  account. 
i  Of  all   the   base  passions,  this  is  the  basest.     It  is 
j  unmingled  malignity,  the  very  worst  and  bitterest  dregs 
I  of  human   depravity ;  the  most  direct  contrariety  of 
love.     Envy  is  either  general  or  special  in  its  objects. 
It  often  exists  in  the  mind  to  such  an  extent,  that  its 
subjects  seem  almost  instinctively  opposed  to  excellence 
and  to  happiness,  wherever  they  see  them,  or  when- 
ever they  hear  of  them.     They  may  not  regard  the  in- 
dividuals on  whom  their  envious  glance  is  fixed  in  the 
light  of  competitors  or  rivals  ;  they  may  have  nothing  to 
hope  from  their  depression — nothing  to  fear  from  their 
j  elevation  ;  but  it  is  enough  to  awaken  their  uneasiness 
j  and  dislike,  to  know  that  they  are  in  some  respects  su- 
perior.    They  cannot  bear  to  see  excellence  or  happi- 
j  ness  in  any  one,  or  ever  to  hear  the  language  of  com- 
I  mendation  or  praise.    They  would  beggar  the  universe 
to  enrich  themselves,  and  monopolize  all  possessions, 
j  and  all  admiration ;  they  would  be  alone  in  the  world, 
as  the  sole  occupants  of  every  thing  valuable,  and  can 
endure  neither  a  superior  nor  an  equal.     This,  it  must 


82 

be  allowed,  is  a  maturity  to  which  envy  rarely  attains, 

compared  with  its  more  special  and  limited  operation. 

The  OBJECTS  of  envy  are  commonly  such  as  these. 

1.  Persons  who  are  nearly  on  our  own  level.  Individ- 
uals who  are  either  much  above  us  in  station,  or  much 
below  us,  are  not  so  likely  to  excite  uneasiness  and 
dislike,  as  those  who  are  of  our  own  standing,  or 
approaching  to  it.  The  tradesman  envies  not  the 
nobleman,  but  some  fellow  tradesman  ;  the  laurels  and 
fame  of  the  hero  are  not  envied  by  the  common  soldier, 
but  by  some  officer  of  his  own  rank. 

2.  Those  who  though  much  above  us,  occupy  a 
station  from  which  ice  have  been  cast  down,  are  likely  to 
be  regarded  by  us  with  an  evil  eye,  and  to  draw  forth 
our  dislike. 

3.  Competitors,  but  especially  some  single  rival  for 
wealth,  or  fame,  or  any  valuable  possession,  is  a  pow- 
erful temptation  to  this  sin.  It  is  extremely  difficult  to 
witness  their  success  and  suDeriority,  and  feel  nothing 
of  envy  towards  them. 

It  is  evident,  that  persons  descending  in  life  are  much 
exposed  to  this  vice :  and,  perhaps,  those  still  more  so, 
who  are  candidates  for  popular  applause,  whether  they  be 
literary,  scientific,  military,  or  professional  men.  "  Vani- 
ty, or  a  thirst  after  applause,  is  the  most  unsocial  and 
envious  of  the  passions,  avarice  itself  not  excepted. 
The  reason  is  plain.  Property  is  a  kind  of  good,  which 
may  be  more  easily  attained,  and  is  capable  of  more 
minute  subdivision,  than  fame.  In  the  pursuit  of  wealth, 
men  are  led,  by  an  attention  to  their  own  interest,  to 
promote  the  welfare  of  each  other :  their  advantages 
are  reciprocal ;  the  benefits  which  each  is  anxious  to 
acquire  for  himself,  he  reaps  in  the  greatest  abundance 
•from  the  union  of  society.  The  pursuits  of  vanity  are 
quite  contrary.  The  portion  of  time  and  attention 
mankind  are  willing  to  spare  from  their  avocations 
and  pleasures,  to  devote  to  the  admiration  of  each  other, 
is  80  small,  that  every  successful  adventurer  is  felt  to 
have  impared  the  common  stock.  The  success  of  one, 
is  the  disappointment  of  multitudes :  for  though  there 


83  .  V 

be  many  rich,  many  virtuous,  many  wise  men,  fame 
must  necessarily  be  the  portion  of  but  few.  Hence 
every  vain  man  regarding  his  competitor  as  his  rival, 
is  strongly  tempted  to  rejoice  in  his  miscarriage,  and  to 
repine  at  his  success. 

There  is  not  any  kind  of  superiority,  however  low 
in  its  nature,  or  obscure  in  situation,  which  is  not 
found  to  be  sufficient  to  call  forth  the  ill  will  and  hatred 
of  some  inferior  or  disappointed  spectator.  Children 
and  rustics,  as  well  as  philosophers,  warriors,  and 
princes,  are  subject  to  its  influence.  Like  the  venom- 
ous spider,  it  weaves  its  web,  and  directs  its  deadly 
glance,  in  the  cottages  of  poverty,  the  mansions  of 
affluence,  and  the  halls  of  science.  It  is  the  epidemic 
of  the  human  race,  the  most  common  operation  of 
human  depravity.  The  Apostle  seems  to  give  it  as  a 
general  description  of  human  nature,  while  unrenewed 
by  divine  grace.  "  Living  in  malice  and  envy,  hateful, 
and  hating  one  another."  The  whole  Gentile  world, 
before  the  coming  of  Christ,  is  described  as  having 
been  "full  of  envy."  "Envyings"  bear  a  high  place 
among  the  works  of  the  flesh;  and  on  the  converts 
from  Paganism,  the  churches  of  believers,  there  was 
no  one  evil  of  which  the  prohibition  was  more  frequent- 
ly, or  more  earnestly  enjoined,  than  this :  and  the 
apostle  James  tells  us,  that  it  is  still  partially  inherent 
in  every  man — "  the  spirit  that  dwelleth  in  us  lusteth 
to  envy." 

But  let  us  now  contemplate  its  hateful  nature. 
It  is  a  vice  of  the  utmost  deformity  and  heinousness. 
To  feel  uneasiness  at  another's  happiness,  or  excellence, 
and  to  dislike  him  on  that  account,  is  a  sin  that  needs 
no  analysis  to  prove  its  deadly  nature — no  dissection  to 
expose  its  corruption  ;  it  presents  at  once,  to  the  most 
superficial  observer,  a  frightful  and  disgusting  appear- 
ance— a  kind  of  leprous  surface.  It  stands  directly 
opposed  to  the  nature  of  God,  whose  love  delights  in 
excellence  and  in  happiness,  and  whose  grace  produ- 
ces both  ;  and  by  whom  this  sin  must  be  regarded  with 
infinite  loathing  and  abhorrence. 


84 

It  is  a  secret  murmuring  against  the  appointments 
of  heaven — an  incessant  quarrel  with  Providence — an 
accusation  preferred  against  the  wisdom,  equity,  and 
goodness  of  the  divine  administration.     As  it  is  unhlce 
God,  so  it  is  the  image  of  Satan, — being  the  disposition, 
united  with  pride,  which  cast  down  the  apostate  angels 
from  their  seats  in  heaven,  and  which  fills  and  fires  their 
bosoms  in  the  bottomless  pit ;  it  is  perfectly  the  state 
of  hell,  and  unceasingly  the  passion  of  devils,  who 
despair  for  themselves,  and  em'y  the  happiness  of  men 
and  angels,  yet  cannot  rejoice  either  in  the  good  or  the 
evil  they  witness,  although  they  endeavour  to  hinder 
the  good,  and  promote  the  evil,  with  all  the  restlessness 
of  malice,  and  the  devices  of  a  mighty  understanding. 
It  is  a  parent  crime,  and  its  progeny  are  as  mischievous 
and  as  deformed  as  itself:  for  malice,  hatred,  falsehood, 
slander,  are  its  ordinary  brood  ;  and  pot  unfrequently 
murder :  for  when  carried  to  excess,  there  is  scarcely 
an  injury  within  its  reach  which  it  would  not  inflict 
upon  its  object.     It  cannot  even  offer  the  excuses  for  . 
itself  which  many  vices   sometimes  bring  forward : 
anger  pleads  the  provocation  it  has  received  ;  but  envy 
has  received  no  offence,  except  the  well-being  of  ano- 
ther be  an  insult :  lust  and  intemperance  plead  the  gra-  ' 
tification  which  their  objects  yield,  and  robbery  holds  np 
its  gain  ;  but  envy  gains  nothing  but  misery,  and  con- 
verts the  happiness,  of  which  it  is  the  witness,  into 
wormwood  and  gall  for  its  own  cup,  and  transvenoms 
the  honey  of  another  man's  comfort  into  the  poison  of 
asps  for  its  own  bosom  :  it  is  a  source  of  eternal  vexa- 
tion— an  instrument  of  self-torment — a  rottenness  in 
the  bones — a  burning  ulceration  of  the  soul — a  crime, 
which,  partaking  of  the  gnilt,  partakes  as  largely  of 
the  misery  of  hell. 

t?:ich  is  envy  ;  but  who  can  describe  it  accurately, 
or  do  it  justice?  If  we  look  for  it  as  embodied  in  liv- 
ing cha5*acters,  we  shall  find  it  in  Cain,  the  proto-mur- 
derer,  who  slew  his  brother  at  the  instigation  of  this 
vice.  We  shall  find  it  in  the  dark,  and  gloomy,  and 
revengeful  spirit  of  Saul,  who,  under  the  influence  of 


85 

envy,  plotted  for  years  the  slaughter  of  David.  We 
shall  find  it  in  the  king  of  Israel,  when  he  pined  for  the 
vineyard  of  Naboth,  and  shed  his  blood  to  gain  it.  Yea, 
it  was  envy  that  perpetrated  that  most  atrocious  crime, 
ever  planned  in  hell  or  executed  on  earth,  on  which  the 
sun  refused  to  look,  and  at  which  nature  gave  signs  of 
abhorrence  by  the  rending  of  the  rocks  ;  I  mean  the 
crucifixion  of  Christ :  for  the  evangelist  tells  us,  that 
for  envy,  the  Jews  delivered  our  Lord. 

Bishop  Hall  has  given  us  a  very  striking  portraiture 
of  the  envious  man,  which  I  shall  here  ,  introduce : — 
"  He  feeds  on  other's  evils  ;  and  hath  no  disease  but  his 
neighbour's  welfare  :  whatsoever  God  does  for  him,  he 
cannot  be  happy  with  company ;  and  if  he  were  put 
to  choose  whether  he  would  rather  have  equals  in  a 
common  felicity,  or  superiors  in  misery,  he  would  demur 
upon  the  election.  His  eye  casts  out  too  much,  and 
never  returns  home,  but  to  make  comparisons  with 
another's  good.  He  is  an  ill  prizer  of  foreign  com- 
modity— worse  of  his  own  ;  for  that  he  rates  too  high 
— this  undervalues.  You  shall  have  him  ever  inquiring 
into  the  estates  of  his  equals  and  betters,  wherein  he  is 
not  more  desirous  to  hear  all,  than  loth  to  hear  any 
thing  over-good  ;  and  if  just  report  relate  aught  better 
than  he  would,  he  redoubles  the  question,  as  being  hard 
to  believe  what  he  likes  not;  and  hopes  yet,  if  that 
be  averred  again  to  his  grief,  that  there  is  somewhat 
concealed  in  the  relation,  which,  if  it  were  known, 
would  argue  the  commended  party  miserable,  and 
blemish  him  with  secret  shame.  He  is  ready  to  quar- 
rel with  God,  because  the  next  field  is  fairer  grown ; 
and  angrily  calculates  his  cost,  and  time,  and  tillage. 
Whom  he  dares  not  openly  backbite,  nor  wound  with  a 
direct  censure,  he  strikes  smoothly  with  an  over-cold 
})raise :  and  when  he  sees  that  he  must  either  mali- 
ciously oppugn  the  just  praise  of  another  (which  were 
unsafe,)  or  approve  it  by  assent,  he  yieldeth  ;  but 
shows,  withal,  that  his  means  were  such,  both  by  na- 
ture and  education,  that  he  could  not,  without  much 
neglect,  be  less  commendable  ;  so  his  happiness  shall 

9 


86 

be  made  the  colour  of  detraction.  When  a  wholesome 
law  is  propounded,  he  crosseth  it  either  by  open  or 
close  opposition — not  for  any  incommodity  or  inexpe- 
dience,  but  because  it  proceedeth  from  any  mouth  but 
his  own ;  and  it  must  be  a  case  rarely  plausible  that 
will  not  admit  some  probable  contradiction.  When  his 
equal  should  rise  to  honour,  he  striveth  against  it  un- 
seen, and  rather  with  much  cost  suborneth  great  ad- 
versaries ;  and  when  he  sees  his  resistance  vain,  he  can 
give  a  hollow  gratulation  in  pretence ;  but  in  secret 
disparageth  that  advancement:  either  the  man  is  unfit 
for  the  place,  or  the  place  for  the  man ;  or,  if  fit,  yet 
less  gainful,  or  more  common  than  opinion  :  whereto 
he  adds,  that  himself  might  have  had  the  same  dignity 
upon  better  terms,  and  refused  it.  He  is  witty  in  de- 
vising suggestions  to  bring  his  rival  out  of  love  into 
suspicion  ;  if  he  be  courteous,  he  is  seditiously  popu- 
lar ;  if  bountiful,  he  binds  over  his  clients  to  faction ; 
if  successful  in  war,  he  is  dangerous  in  peace ;  if 
wealthy,  he  lays  tip  for  a  day ;  if  powerful,  nothing 
wants  but  opportunity  for  rebellion  ;  his  submission,  is 
ambitious  hyprocrisy  ;  his  religion,  politic  insinuation  ; 
— no  action  is  safe  from  an  envious  construction.  When 
he  receives  a  good  report  of  him  whom  he  emulates, 
he  saith.  Fame  is  partial,  and  covers  mischiefs ;  and 
pleaseth  himself  with  hope  to  find  it  false :  and  if  ill 
will  hath  dispersed  a  more  spiteful  narration,  he  lays 
hold  on  that  against  all  witnesses,  and  broacheth  that 
rumour  for  truth,  because  worst ;  and  when  he  sees 
him  perfectly  miserable,  he  can  at  once  pity  him  and 
rejoice.  What  himself  cannot  do,  othei-s  shall  not : 
he  hath  gained  well,  if  he  have  hindered  the  success 
of  what  he  would  have  done  and  could  not.  He  con- 
ceals his  best  skill,  not  so  as  it  may  not  be  known  that 
he  knows  it,  but  so  as  it  may  not  be  Icanied,  because 
he  would  have  the  world  miss  him.  He  attained  to  a 
sovereign  nicdicine  by  the  secret  legacy  of  a  dying 
empiric,  whereof  he  will  leave  no  heir,  lest  the  praise 
should  be  divided.  Finally,  he  is  an  enemy  to  God's 
favouj'S,  if  they  fall  beside  himself ;  the  best  nurse  of 


87 

ill  fame ;  a  man  of  the  worst  diet,  for  he  consumes 
himself,  and  delights  in  pining ;  a  thornhedge  covered 
with  nettles ;  a  peevish  interpreter  of  good  things  ;  and 
no  other  than  a  lean  and  pale  carcass  quickened  with 
a  fiend." 

How  hateful,  then,  is  this  crime  ;  and  although  we 
may  not  be  in  danger  of  carrying  it  to  the  excess  here 
stated,  yet  we  should  ever  strive  against  its  least  and 
lowest  degrees.  The  means  of  opposing  and  mortify- 
ing it  are  many. 

Let  us  very  seriously  meditate  on  its  evil  nature.  A 
steady  contemplation  of  its  deformity  and  demon-like 
countenance,  is  calculated  to  excite  disgust,  and  to 
produce  abhorrence.  Many  evils,  and  this  among  the 
number,  are  too  much  indulged,  because  they  are  too 
little  contemplated.  The  more  we  meditate  upon  the 
heinousness  of  envy,  the  more  we  shall  be  convinced 
of  the  utter  unsuitableness  of  such  a  temper  as  thiS 
to  be  the  inmate  of  a  Christian's  bosom :  it  is  like  a 
fiend  inhabiting  the  temple  of  the  Lord.  We  must 
next  form  a  deliberate  resolution  for  its  mortification:  we 
must  stand  prepared  to  take  the  greatest  pains,  to  main- 
tain the  most  determined  efforts,  for  the  riddance  of 
our  hearts  from  so  hateful  a  disposition.  Let  us  next 
consider,  that  the  circumstances  which  excite  our  envy 
are  among  the  arrangements  of  a  wise  Providence ;  and 
that  to  dislike  another  on  account  of  his  excellence,  or 
happiness,  is  a  crime  of  no  less  magnitude  than  a  wish 
to  oppose  and  subvert  the  dispensations  of  heaven.  Let 
us  remember,  that  if  others  have  more  than  ourselves, 
we  have  infinitely  more  than  we  deserve  ;  a  deliberate 
and  frequent  consideration  of  our  numerous  and  aggra- 
vated sins,  with  our  deliverance  from  their  consequen- 
ces, together  with  a  survey  of  our  mercies,  and  hopes, 
as  Christians,  would  very  powerfully  help  us  in  the 
great  business  of  mortifying  envy ;  for  the  chief  dif- 
ference between  man  and  man,  as  to  real  happiness, 
lies  in  spiritual  distinctions ;  and  if  we  have  these,  the 
absence  of  any  thing  else  is  matter  of  little  consequence. 
It  may  not  be  amiss  also  to  consider,  how  comparatively 


88 

small  is  the  amount  of  happiness  derived  by  the  object 
of  our  envy,  from  those  possessions  on  the  ground  of 
which  we  dislike  him :  and  how  soon,  could  we  trans- 
fer them  to  ourselves,  they  would  cease  to  impart  any 
strong  gratification  to  us.  We  always  act  under  a 
delusion,  when  we  indulge  this  hateful  passion :  its 
objects  are  seen  through  a  magnifying  medium  of 
very  high  power.  The  circumstances  which  excite 
our  envy,  have  their  attendant  evils ; — evils  which, 
though  concealed  from  general  observation,  are  well 
known  to  the  possessor  of  them.  We  should  labour 
to  be  content  with  such  things  as  we  have  :  content- 
ment is  the  secret  of  happiness,  whether  we  have  much 
or  little.  The  man  who  makes  up  his  mind  to  enjoy 
what  he  has,  is  quite  as  happy  as  he  who  possesses 
twice  as  much. 

But  still  the  great  thing  is,  to  endeavour,  by  God's 
gracious  help,  to  increase  in  love.  Our  envy  will  then 
as  certainly  diminish,  as  darkness  retires  before  the 
entrance  of  light,  or  cold  before  the  power  of  heat- 
Love  and  envy  are  the  very  antipodes  of  each  other : 
the  former  delights  in  the  happiness  of  others,  the  latter 
is  made  miserable  by  it.  Let  us  endeavour  to  cultivate 
this  disposition,  and  to  delight  in  witnessing  and  diffus- 
ing blessedness.  This  is  what  the  Apostle  meant,  when 
he  said,  "Rejoice  with  those  that  do  rejoice."  What 
a  beatifying,  and  even  sublime,  temper  is  that,  which 
leads  its  possessor  to  find  consolation,  amidst  its  own 
straits,  privations,  and  difficulties,  in  contemplating  the 
possessions  and  the  comforts  of  those  around  him ! 
What  relief  would  such  elevated  virtue  bring  to  the 
mourner,  when  he  could  turn  his  own  darkened  orb 
toward  the  illumination  of  his  neighbour's  prosperity  ! 
Happy  the  man  who  can  thus  borrow  the  joys  of  others 
when  he  has  none,  or  (ew,  of  his  own  ;  and,  from  the 
wilderness  of  his  own  situation,  enjoy  the  beautiful 
prospect  of  his  friends'  domain.  Difficult  and  rare  as 
such  a  temper  is,  it  is  that  which  is  the  subject  of  the 
Apostle's  description,  in  the  chapter  we  are  consider- 
ing, and  which  it  is  the  duty  of  every  Christian  to 


89 

cultivate.  Hard,  indeed,  is  the  saying,  and  few  there 
are  who  can  bear  it,  but  it  is  assuredly  the  lesson  which 
Christ  teaches  his  disciples,  and  which  those  disciples 
must  all  endeavour  to  learn.  Much  may  be  done  by 
effort.  Let  us  determine,  by  God's  help,  to  acquire  it ; 
let  us  make  the  attempt,  and  let  us  only  persevere, 
notwithstanding  many  defeats  and  many  discourage- 
ments, and  it  is  astonishing  what  may  be  done.  But 
this  goeth  not  forth  but  by  fasting  and  prayer.  Love 
cannot  be  cultivated,  nor  envy  destroyed,  in  our  hearts, 
but  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  We  may  as  well 
try  to  pull  up  by  the  roots  the  oak  of  a  century's 
growth,  or  overturn  a  mountain  by  our  own  strength, 
as  to  eradicate  the  vice  of  envy  from  our  hearts,  with- 
out the  aid  of  God's  own  Spirit :  that  aid  is  promised 
to  fervent  and  persevering  prayer,  and  if  we  have  it 
not,  the  fault  is  our  own. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE    HUMILITY    OF    LOVE. 


"  Charity  is  not  pufled  up — vaunteth  not  itself." 


The  Apostle's  meaning,  in  this  part  of  his  descrip- 
tion, evidently  is,  that  love  has  not  a  high  and  over- 
weening conceit  of  its  own  possessions  and  acquire- 
ments, and  does  not  ostentatiously  boast  of  what  it  is, 
has  done,  can  do,  or  intends  to  do.  It  is  opposed  to 
pride  and  vanity,  and  is  connected  with  true  humility. 

Pride  signifies  such  an  exalted  idea  of  ourselves,  as 
leads  to  self-esteem,  and  to  contempt  of  others.  It  is 
self-admiration — self-doating.  It  differs  from  vanity 
thus :  pride  causes  us  to  value  ourselves ;  vanity 
makes  us  anxious  for  applause.  Pride  renders  a  man 
odious;  vanity  makes  him  ridiculous.  Love  is  equally 
opposed  to  both. 

Pride  is  the  sin  which  laid  the  moral  universe  in  ruins. 
It  was  this  that  impelled  Satan  and  his  confederates  to 
a  mad  "  defiance  of  the  Omnipotent  to  arms,"  for 
which  they  were  driven  from  heaven,  and  taught,  by 
their  better  experience,  that  "God  resisteth  the  proud.'* 
Banished  from  the  world  of  celestials,  pride  alighted  on 
our  globe,  in  its  way  to  hell,  and  brought  destruction 
in  its  train.  Propagated  from  our  common  and  fallen 
parent  with  our  species,  it  is  the  original  sin — the  in- 


91 

herent  corruption  of  our  nature.  It  spreads  over  hu- 
manity, with  the  contagious  violence,  the  loathsome 
appearance  of  a  moral  leprosy,  raging  alike  through 
the  palace  and  the  cottage,  and  infecting  equally  the 
prince  and  the  peasant. 

The  grounds  of  pride  are  various:  whatever  con- 
stitutes a  distinction  between  man  and  man,  is  the 
occasion  of  this  hateful  disposition.  It  is  a  vice  that 
does  not  dwell  exclusively  in  kings'  houses,  wear  only 
soft  raiment,  and  feed  every  day  upon  titles,  fame,  or 
affluence  ;  it  accommodates  itself  to  our  circumstances, 
and  adapts  itself  to  our  distinctions,  of  whatever  kind 
they  be.  The  usual  grounds  of  pride  are  the  follow- 
ing:— 

Wealth.  Some  value  themselves  on  account  of  their 
fortune,  look  down  with  contempt  on  those  below 
them,  and  exact  obsequiousness  towards  themselves, 
and  deference  for  their  opinions,  according  to  the 
thousands  of  money  or  of  acres  which  they  possess. 
Others  are  proud  of  their  talents^  either  natural  or 
acquired.  The  brilliancy  of  their  genius,  the  extent 
of  their  learning,  the  splendour  of  their  imagination, 
the  acuteness  of  their  understanding,  their  power  to 
argue,  or  declaim,  form  the  object  of  self-esteem,  and 
the  reasons  of  that  disdain  which  they  pour  upon  all 
who  are  inferior  to  them  in  mental  endowments.  But 
these  thipgs  are  not  so  common  in  the  Church  of  God, 
as  those  which  we  now  mention. 

Ecclesiastical  connexions  form,  in  many  cases,  the 
occasion  of  pride.  This  was  exemplified  in  the  Jews, 
who  boasted  that  they  were  the  children  of  Abraham, 
and  worshipped  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord.  Their 
self-admiration,  as  the  members  of  the  only  true 
church,  and  as  the  covenant  people  of  God,  was  insuf- 
ferably disgusting.  In  this  feature  of  their  character, 
they  are  too  often  imitated  in  modern  times.  What- 
ever leads  us  to  think  highly  of  ourselves  in  matters  of 
religion,  and  to  despise  others,  whether  it  be  the  dis- 
tinctions of  earthly  greatness,  the  practice  of  religious 


9% 

duties,  or  the  independence  of  our  mode  of  thinking,  is 
opposed  to  the  spirit  of  Christian  charity. 

Superior  light  on  the  subject  of  revealed  truths  is  no 
unusual  occasion  of  pride.  The  Arminian  Pharisee 
dwells  with  fondness  on  the  goodness  of  his  heart ;  the 
Antinomian,  with  equal  haughtiness,  values  himself  on 
the  clearness  of  his  head ;  and  the  Socinian,  as  far 
from  humility  as  either  of  them,  is  inflated  with  a  con- 
ceit of  the  strength  of  his  reason,  and  its  elevation 
above  vulgar  prejudices ; — while  not  a  few  moderate 
Calvinists  regard  with  complacency  f/icir  sagacity  in  dis- 
covering the  happy  medium.  As  men  are  more  proud  of 
their  understanding  than  of  their  disposition,  it  is  very 
probable  that  religious  opinions  are  more  frequently 
the  cause  of  conceit  and  self-importance,  than  anything 
else  which  could  be  mentioned.  "  It  is  knowledge," 
says  the  Apostle,  "  that  puffeth  up."  We  are  the  men, 
and  wisdom  will  die  with  us,  is  the  temper  of  mul- 
titudes. 

Religious  gifts  are  sometimes  the  ground  of  self- 
admiration.  Fluency  and  fervour  in  extempore  prayer, 
ability  to  converse  on  doctrinal  subjects,  especially  if 
accompanied  by  a  ready  utterance  in  public,  have  all, 
through  the  influence  of  Satan  and  the  depravity  of 
our  nature,  led  to  the  disposition  we  are  now  con- 
demning. None  are  in  more  danger  of  this  than  the 
ministers  of  religion ; — it  is  the  besetting  sii\  of  their 
office.  There  is  no  one  gift  which  offers  so  strong  a 
temptation  both  to  vanity  and  to  pride,  as  that  of  pub- 
lic speaking.  If  the  orator  really  excel  and  is  success- 
ful, he  is  the  immediate  spectator  of  his  success,  and 
has  not  even  to  wait  till  he  has  finished  his  discourse ; 
for  although  the  decorum  of  public  worship  will  not 
allow  of  audible  tokens  of  applause,  it  does  of  visible 
ones ; — the  look  of  interest,  the  tear  of  penitence  or 
of  sympathy,  the  smile  of  joy,  the  deep  impression  on 
the  mind,  the  death-like  stillness,  cannot  be  concealed ; 
— all  seems  like  a  tribute  of  admiration  to  the  presiding 
spirit  of  the  scene ;  and  then  the  applause  which  is 


93 

conveyed  to  his  ear,  after  all  the  silent  plaudits  which 
have  reached  his  eye,  is  equally  calculated  to  puff  him 
up  with  pride.  No  men  are  more  in  danger  of  this  sin 
than  the  ministers  of  the  Gospel :  none  should  watch 
more  sleeplessly  against  it. 

Deep  religious  \experience  has  often  been  followed  by 
the  same  effect,  in  those  cases  where  it  has  been 
remarkably  enjoyed.  The  metho(Js  of  divine  grace, 
though  marked  by  a  uniformity  sufficient  to  presence 
that  likeness  of  character,  which  is  essential  to  the 
unity  of  the  spirit  and  the  sympathies  of  the  church, 
are  still  distinguished  by  a  vast  variety  of  minor  pe- 
culiarities. The  convictions  of  sin  in  some  minds  are 
deeper,  the  apprehensions  of  Divine  wrath  are  more 
appalling,  the  transition  from  the  poignant  compunction 
of  repentance  bordering  on  despair,  to  joy  and  peace 
in  believing,  more  slow  and  more  awful,  the  subsequent 
repose  more  settled,  and  the  joy  more  unmingled  with 
the  gloom  of  distressing  fears,  than  is  experienced 
by  the  generality  of  their  brethren.  Such  persons  are 
looked  up  to  as  professors  of  religion,  whose  religious 
history  has  been  remarkable,  as  vessels  of  mercy  on 
which  the  hand  of  the  Lord  has  bestowed  peculiar 
pains,  and  which  are  eminently  fitted  for  the  master's 
use.  They  are  regarded  as  having  a  peculiar  sanctity 
about  them ;  and  hence  they  are  in  danger  of  falling 
under  the  temptation  to  which  they  are  exposed,  and 
of  being  proud  of  their  experience.  They  look  down 
jfrom  what  they  suppose  to  be  their  lofty  elevation,  if 
inot  with  disdain  yet  with  suspicion,  or  with  pity  upon 
'those  whose  way  has  not  been  in  their  track.  Their 
seasons  of  elevated  communion  with  God,  of  holy 
jenlargement  of  soul,  are  sometimes  followed  with  this 
itendency.  Paul  was  never  more  in  danger  of  losing 
ibis  humility,  than  when  he  was  just  returned  from 
gazing  upon  the  celestial  throne. 

Zeal,  whether  it  be  felt  in  the  cause  of  humanity  or 
jof  piety,  has  frequently  produced  pride.  This  was 
strikingly  illustrated  in  the  case  of  the  Pharisee :  "  God, 
I  thank  thee,"  said  this  inflated  devotee,  "that  I  am 


94 

not  as  other  men  are,  extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers, 
or  even  as  this  publican :  I  fast  twice  in  the  week — I 
give  tithes  of  all  that  I  possess !"  Where  a  natural 
liberality  of  mind,  or  religious  principle,  has  led  men 
to  lavish  their  property,  or  their  influence,  or  their  time, 
upon  benevolent  institutions,  they  have  too  often  return- 
ed from  the  scene  of  public  activity,  to  indulge  in 
private  and  personal  admiration.  They  have  read 
with  pecuhar  delight  the  reports  in  which  their  munifi- 
cence is  recorded  and  have  assigned  to  themselves  a 
high  place  in  the  roll  of  public  benefactors. 

On  all  these  grounds  does  pride  exalt  itself;  but 
love  is  no  less  opposed  to  vanity  than  it  is  to  pride— 
"it  vaunteth  not  itself"  It  does  not  boast  of,  or 
ostentatiously  display,  its  possessions,  acquirements,  or 
operations.  A  disposition  to  boast,  and  to  attract 
attention,  is  a  common  foible.  We  see  this  among  the 
people  of  the  world,  in  reference  to  their  property, 
their  learning,  their  connexions,  their  influence.  They 
are  afraid  the  public  should  underrate  them ;  forgetting 
that  they  pay  a  poor  compliment  to  their  importance, 
when  they  thus  think  it  necessary  to  proclaim  it  in 
order  to  its  being  known.  If  indeed,  they  are  what 
they  wish  to  make  us  believe  they  are,  the  fact  would 
be  obvious  without  this  method  of  publishing  it  in 
every  company.  Pufling  is  always  suspicious,  or 
supci*fluous ;  for  real  greatness  no  more  needs  a  crier 
than  the  sun. 

But  it  is  more  particularly  in  reference  to  religious 
matters  that  this  observation  of  the  Apostle  applies. 
We  should  not  appear  eager  to  display  our  gifts,  nor 
should  we  vaunt  of  our  religious  experience.  The 
manner  in  which  some  good  but  weak  people  talk  of 
their  pious  conflicts,  is  indeed  intolerably  oftcnsive. 
No  matter  who  is  present,  pious  or  profane,  scorner 
or  believer,  they  parade  all  their  seasons  of  despon- 
dency or  of  rapture  ;  they  tell  you  how  they  struggled 
with  the  great  enemy  of  souls,  and  overcome  him ; 
how  they  wrestled  with  God,  and  had  power  to  prevail; 
and  that  you  may  have  as  exalted  an  opinion  of  their 


9$: 

humility,  as  of  their  enjoyment,  they  tell  you  in  the 
utter  violation  of  all  propriety,  and  almost  of  decency, 
what  temptations  they  have  encountered — ^what  hair- 
breadth escapes  they  have  had  from  the  commission  of 
sin.  Their  motive  is  obvious  ;  all  this  vaunting  is  to 
impress  you  with  the  idea  that  they  are  no  ordinary 
Christians.  Who  can  wonder  that  all  religious  conver- 
sation should  have  been  branded  with  the  epithets  of 
whining  cant  and  disgusting  hypocrisy,  when  the  in- 
judicious and  nauseating  effusions  of  such  talkers  are 
regarded  as  a  fair  sample  of  it  ? 

Too  common  is  it  to  make  the  externals  of  religion 
the  subject  of  vain-glorious  boasting.  How  long  can 
you  be  in  thp  company  of  some  Christians  without 
hearing  of  their  splendid  place  of  worship,  and  its  vast 
superiority*  over  all  the  rest  in  the  town  1  They 
establish  the  most  insulting  and  degrading  comparisons 
between  their  minister  and  his  brethren  in  the 
neighbourhood :  none  so  eloquent,  none  so  able,  none 
so  successful,  as  he.  Notwithstanding  your  attach- 
ment to  the  pastor  under  whose  ministry  you  sit  with 
pleasure  and  profit,  you  are  condemned  to  hear  him  dis- 
honoured and  degraded  by  one  of  these  gasconading 
professors,  who  is  as  destitute  of  good  manners  as  he 
is  of  good  feeling. 

And  what  a  propensity  is  there  in  the  present  age, 
to  display,  and  parade,  and  boasting,  in  reference  to 
religious  zeal !  This  is  one  of  the  temptations  of  the 
day  in  which  we  live,  and  a  compliance  with  the  temp- 
tation one  of  its  vices.  We  have  at  length  arrived  at 
an  era  of  the  Christian  church,  when  all  the  denomina- 
tions into  which  it  is  divided,  and  all  the  congregations 
into  which  it  is  sub-divided,  have  their  public  religious 
institutions  for  the  diffusion  of  divine  truth.  These 
institutions  cannot  be  supported  without  property;  and 
the  property  that  is  contributed  for  their  support,  must 
be  matter  of  general  notoriety.  Like  the  tributary 
streams  flowing  into  a  great  river,  or  like  great  rivers 
flowing  into  the  sea,  the  contributions  of  associated 
congregations  or  communities,  make  up  the  general 


96 

fund :  but,  unlike  the  tributary  streams  which  flow 
silently  to  form  the  mighty  mass  of  waters,  without 
requiring  the  ocean  to  publish  to  the  universe  the 
amount  of  each  separate  quota,  the  oiferings  of  the 
different  religious  bodies,  must  be  announced,  to  the 
uttermost  farthing,  before  the  world.  This  perhaps, 
is  necessary,  that  the  contributors  may  know  that  their 
bounty  has  not  been  stopped  and  swallowed  up  in  its 
course,  but  has  reached  its  destined  receptacle  :  and 
such  is  the  weakness  of  our  principles,  and  the  strength 
of  our  imperfections,  that  this  publicity  to  a  certain 
extent,  seems  necessary  to  stimulate  our  langniid  zeal. 
But  it  has  given  opportunity,  and  that  opi>ortunity  has 
been  eagerly  embraced,  to  establish  a  system  of  un- 
hallowed vanity  between  the  different  denominations 
and  the  various  congregations  into  whicfh  the  Chris- 
tian church  is  divided.  Who  can  have  heard  the 
speeches,  read  the  reports,  and  witnessed  the  proceedings 
of  many  of  our  public  meetings,  convened  for  the 
support  of  missionary  societies,  without  being  grieved 
at  tlie  strange  fire,  and  diseased  offerings,  which  have 
been  brought  to  the  altar  of  the  Lord  ?  The  object 
of  the  meeting  was  good,  for  it  was  the  destruction  of 
an  idolatry  as  insulting  to  Jehovah  as  that  which  Jehu 
destroyed ;  but  like  the  king  of  Israel,  hundreds  of 
voices  exclaimed  in  concert,  "  Come,  see  our  zeal  for 
the  Lord  !"  The  image  of  jealousy  was  lifted  up  in 
the  temple  of  Jehovah ;  adulatory  speakers  chaunted 
its  praises,  in  compliments  upon  the  liberality  of  tlic 
worshippers ;  the  multitude  responded  in  shouts  of 
applause  to  the  tribute  paid  to  their  zeal ;  the  praise 
of  God  was  drowned  amidst  the  praise  of  men  ;  and 
the  crowd  dispersed,  in  love  with  the  cause,  it  is  true, 
but  more  for  their  own  sakes,  than  for  the  sake  of 
God,  or  of  the  heathen  world. 

Dilhcuit  indeed  it  is,  with  such  hearts  as  ours,  to  do 
any  thing  entirely  pure  from  all  admixture  of  a  sinful 
nature ;  but  when  we  take  pains  to  make  our  zeal 
known ;  when  we  employ  effort  to  draw  public  atten- 
tion upon  UB ;  when  we  wish  and  design  to  make  our- 


97 

selves  talked  of  as  a  most  extraordinary,  liberal,  and 
active  people  ;  when  we  listen  for  praises,  and  are  dis- 
appointed if  they  do  not  come  in  the  measure  we  ex- 
pected, and  feast  upon  them  if  they  are  presented ; 
when  we  look  with  envy  on  those  who  have  outstripped 
us,  and  find  no  pleasure  in  any  future  efforts,  because 
we  cannot  be  first ;  when  we  look  with  jealousy  on 
those  who  are  approaching  our  level,  and  feel  a  new 
stimulus,  not  from  a  fresh  perception  of  the  excellence 
of  the  object,  but  from  a  fear  that  we  shall  be  eclipsed 
in  public  estimation  ;  when  we  talk  of  our  fellow  work- 
ers, or  to  them,  with  disdain  of  their  efforts,  and  with 
arrogant  ostentation  of  our  own  ; — then,  indeed,  have 
we  employed  the  cause  only  as  a  pedestal  on  which  to 
exalt  ourselves  ;  in  pulling  down  one  kind  of  idolatry, 
we  have  set  up  another,  and  rendered  our  contributions 
nothing  better  than  a  costly  sacrifice  to  our  own  vani- 
ty. All  this  is  a  want  of  that  Christian  love  which 
"  vaunteth  not  itself,  and  is  not  pufted  up." 

True  zeal  is  modest  and  retiring;  it  is  not  like  the 
scentless  sunflower,  which  spreads  its  gaudy  petals  to 
the  light  of  heaven,  and  turns  its  face  to  the  orb  of 
day  through  his  course,  as  if  determined  to  be  seen  ; 
but  like  the  modest  violet,  it  hides  itself  in  the  bank, 
and  sends  forth  its  fragrance  from  its  deep  retirement. 
It  employs  no  trumpeter,  it  unfurls  no  banner,  like  the 
hypocrite ;  but  while  conferring  the  most  substantial 
benefits,  it  would,  if  it  were  possible,  be  like  the  angels 
who,  while  ministering  to  the  heirs  of  salvation,  are  un- 
seen, and  unkown,  by  the  objects  of  their  benevolent 
attention. 

Observe  the  manner  in  which  love  operates  to  the 
destruction  of  this  evil.  Love,  as  we  have  already  had 
frequent  occasion  to  remark,  is  a  desire  to  promote  the 
happiness  of  those  around  us  ;  but  proud  and  vain  per- 
sons tend  materially  to  impair  this  happiness.  They 
generally  excite  disgust,  frequently  offer  insult,  and 
sometimes  inflict  pain.  Their  object  is  to  impress  you 
with  a  degrading  sense  of  inferiority,  and  thus  to  wound 
and  mortify  your  feelings.     Caring  little  for  ygur  peace, 

10 


98 

they  pursue  a  career  of  contumely  and  scorn,  dreaded 
by  the  weak  and  despised  by  the  wise.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  be  happy  in  their  society ;  for  if  you  oppose  them, 
you  are  insulted — if  you  submit  to  them,  you  are  de- 
graded. 

Love  is  essentially  and  unalterably  attended  with  hu- 
mility ;  humility  is  the  garment  with  which  it  is  cloth- 
ed, its  inseparable  and  invariable  costume.  By  hu- 
mility, we  do  not  intend  the  servility  which  crouches, 
or  the  meanness  that  creeps,  or  the  sycophancy  which 
fawns ;  but  a  disposition  to  think  lowly  of  our  attain- 
ments, a  tendency  to  dwell  upon  our  defects,  rather 
than  our  excellences,  an  apprehension  of  our  inferiori- 
ty compared  with  those  around  us,  with  what  we  ought 
to  be,  and  what  we  might  be.  It  is  always  attended 
with  that  modest  deportment,  which  neither  boasts  of 
itself,  nor  seeks  to  depreciate  any  one :  humility  is  the 
inward  feeling  of  lowliness — modesty  is  the  outward 
expression  of  it ;  humility  leads  a  man  to  feel  that  he 
deserves  little — modesty  leads  him  to  demand  little. 

"  The  ancient  sages,  amidst  all  their  panegyrics  upon 
virtue,  and  inquires  into  the  elements  of  moral  excel- 
lence, not  only  valued  humility  at  an  exceedingly  low 
estimate,  but  reckoned  it  a  quality  so  contemptible,  as 
to  neutralize  the  other  properties  which  went,  in  their 
estimation,  to  the  composition  of  a  truly  noble  and  ex- 
alted character.  These  sentiments  have  been  adopted, 
in  modern  times,  by  the  great  majority  both  of  the  vul- 
gar and  of  the  philosophers,  differing  from  their  prede- 
cessors chiefly  in  this  circumstance, — the  more  com- 
plete absence  of  that  humility  and  modesty  which 
would  have  adorned  them,  and  in  their  determined  and 
obstinate  rejection  of  that  true  standard  of  character, 
after  which  the  ancients  so  eagerly  sought.  By  the 
touchstone  which  Christianity  ai)plies  to  the  human 
character,  it  is  found  that  [)ri(le  and  independence, 
which  the  woild  falsely  dignifies  with  the  epithet  lumo- 
rablt,  are  really  base  alloy ;  and  that  of  every  charac- 
ter formed  upon  proper  principles,  and  possessed  of 
genuine  worth,  humility  is  at  once  a  distinguishing  fea- 


99 

ture  and  the  richest  ornament.  And  on  this  subject,  as 
on  every  other,  Christianity  accords  with  the  sentiments 
of  right  reason — that  it  is  unquestionably  the  duty  of  eve- 
ry intelligent  (especially  every  imperfect)  creature  to 
be  humble  ;  for  they  have  nothing  which  they  have  not 
received,  and  are  indebted,  in  every  movement  they 
make,  to  an  agency  infinitely  superior  to  their  own." 

Now,  as  divine  revelation  is  the  only  system  which, 
either  in  ancient  or  in  modern  times,  assigns  to  humility 
the  rank  of  a  virtue,  or  makes  provision  for  its  cultiva- 
tion, this  in  an  eminent  degree  does  both.  It  assigns 
to  it  the  highest  place,  and  a  sort  of  preeminence 
among  the  graces  of  piety ;  bestows  upon  it  the  greatest 
commendations,  enforces  it  by  the  most  powerful  mo- 
tives, encourages  it  by  the  richest  promises,  draws  it  in 
to  exercise  by  .the  most  splendid  examples,  and  repre 
sents  it  as  the  brightest  jewel  in  the  Christian's  crown 
Every  thing  in  the  word  of  God  is  calculated  to  hum- 
ble us;  the  description  which  it  contains  of  the  divine 
character,  combining  an  infinitude  of  greatness,  good- 
ness, and  glory,  compared  with  which  the  loftiest  being 
is  an  insignificant  atom,  and  the  purest  heart  as  depravity 
itself;  the  view  it  gives  us  of  innumerable  orders  of 
created  intelligences,  all  above  man,  in  the  date  of  their 
existence,  the  capacity  of  their  minds,  and  the  elevation 
of  their  virtue  ;  the  account  it  preserves  of  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  perfection  of  man  in  his  pristine  inno- 
cence, and  the  discovery  which  it  thus  furnishes  of  the 
height  from  which'he  has  fallen,  and  the  contrast  it  thus 
draws  between  his  present  and  his  former  nature  ;  the 
declaration  it  makes  of  the  purity  of  the  eternal  law, 
and  the  immeasurable  depth  at  which  we  are  thus  seen 
to  lie  beneath  our  obligations ;  the  history  it  exhibits 
of  the  circumstances  of  man's  fall,  of  the  progress  of 
his  sin,  and  of  the  numberless  and  awful  obliquities  of 
his  corruptions  ;  the  characteristics  it  affixes  to  his  situ- 
ation as  a  sinner,  a  rebel,  an  enemy  of  God,  a  child  of 
wrath,  an  heir  of  perdition ;  the  method  it  presents,  by 
which  he  is  redeemed  from  sin  and  hell, — a  scheme 
which  he  neither  invented,  nor  thought  of,  nor  aided, 


100 

but  which  is  a  plan  of  grace,  from  first  to  last,  even  the 
grace  of  God,  manifested  in  and  through  the  propitiation 
of  Christ — a  plan,  which,  in  all  its  parts,  and  in  all  its 
bearings,  seems  expressly  devised  to  exclude  boasting  ; 
the  means  by  which  it  asserts  that  the  renovation  and 
sanctification  of  the  human  heart  are  carried  on,  and 
its  security  to  eternal  life  established  even  by  the  effec- 
tual operation  of  a  divine  agency ;  the  sovereignty 
which  it  proclaims,  as  regulating  the  dispensation  of  ce- 
lestial mercy  ;  the  examples  which  it  holds  forth  of  the 
astonishing  lowliness  and  self-abasement  of  others,  so 
far  superior  to  man  in  their  mental  and  moral  natures, 
such  as  the  profound  abasement  of  the  angelic  race, 
but  especially  the  unparalleled  humiliation  of  him,  who, 
though  he  was  in  the  form  of  God,  was  found  in  the 
form  of  a  servant ; — these  considerations,  which  are  all 
drawn  from  the  scriptures,  supply  incentives  to  humili- 
ty, which  demonstrate,  upon  Christian  principles,  that 
pride  is  the  most  unreasonable,  as  well  as  the  most  un- 
righteous, thing  in  the  universe.  Pride  is  opposed,  and 
humility  is  supported,  by  every  possible  view  that  we 
can  take  of  divine  revelation.  An  acquintance  with 
these  great  principles  of  inspired  truth,  at  least  an  ex- 
perimental knowledge  of  them,  will  bring  down  the 
loftiness  of  men's  looks,  and  silence  the  tongue  of  arro- 
gant boasting.  Surely,  surely,  he  that  is  conversant 
with  these  things,  will  see  little  cause  for  self-valuation, 
as  Mr.  Hume  calls  pride,  or  for  that  self-publication, 
which  is  the  essence  of  vanity. 

While  every  true-hearted  Christian  is  thankful  that 
the  Son  of  God  stooped  so  low  for  his  salvation,  he 
will  rejoice  that  his  state  of  humiliation  is  past.  "If 
ye  loved  me,  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  said,  I  go  un- 
to the  Father."  The  eclipse  is  over,  the  sun  has  re- 
sumed his  qriginal  brightness,  and  the  heavenly  world 
is  illuminated  with  his  rays.  That  man,  in  whom  was 
no  form  nor  comeliness  for  which  he  should  be  desired, 
sits  upon  the  throne  of  the  universe,  wearing  a  crown 
of  immortal  glory,  and  is  adored  by  angels  and  by  men. 
His  humility  has  cond^cted  to  bouour ;  bis  sorrow  has 


101 

terminated  in  unspeakable  joy.  "  His  glory  is  great  in 
thy  salvation ;  honour  and  majesty  hast  thou  laid  upon 
him ;  for  thou  hast  made  him  most  blessed  for  ever : 
thou  has  made  him  exceeding  glad  with  thy  counte- 
nance." Similar  shall  be  the  result  in  the  case  of  those 
who  follow  his  steps,  and  tread  the  lowly  path  in  which 
he  has  commanded  them  to  walk.  The  crown  of  glory 
is  reserved  for  the  humble,  but  shame  shall  be  the  re- 
ward of  the  proud.  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit, 
for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

There  is  no  operation  of  Christian  love  more  beauti- 
ful, none  more  scarce,  than  this ;  let  professing  Chris- 
tians set  themselves  to  work  with  their  own  proud 
hearts,  and  their  own  boasting  tongues,  remembering 
that  they  who  sink  the  lowest  in  humility  in  this  world, 
shall  assuredly  rise  the  highest  in  honour  in  the  world 
to  come. 


10* 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    DECORUM    OP    LOVE. 


"  Charitjr  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly.** 


A  STATION  for  every  person,  and  every  person  in 
his  station  ;  a  time  for  everything,  and  everything  in  its 
time;  a  manner  for  everything,  and  everything  in  its 
manner ; — is  a  compendious  and  admirable  rule  for  hu- 
man conduct,  and  seems  to  approach  very  nearly  to  the 
property  of  charity,  which  we  are  now  to  consider. 
There  is  some  difficulty  in  ascertaining  the  precise  idea 
which  the  Apostle  intended  by  the  original  term.  Per- 
haps the  most  correct  rendering  is  "indecorously," 
"unbecomingly,"  i.  e.  unsuitably  to  our  sex,  rank,  age, 
or  circumstances.  Love  leads  a  man  to  know  his  place, 
and  to  keep  it ;  and  prevents  all  those  deviations  which, 
by  disarranging  the  order,  disturb  the  comfort,  of  so- 
ciety. This  is  so  general  and  comprehensive  a  rule, 
that  it  would  admit  of  application  to  all  the  various  dis- 
tinctions which  exist  in  life.  It  is  absolutely  universal, 
and  binds  with  equal  force  the  monarch  and  the  peas- 
ant, and  all  the  numerous  intermediate  ranks.  It  im- 
Doses  a  consistency  between  a  man's  station  and  his 


103 

conduct  viewed  in  the  light  of  Christianity.  It  says  to 
every  man,  "  Consider  your  circumstances,  and  fulfil 
every  just  expectation  to  which  they  give  rise."  By  the 
common  consent  of  mankind,  there  is  a  certain  line  of 
conduct  which  belongs  to  every  relation  in  life,  and 
which  cannot,  perhaps,  be  better  expressed  than  by  the 
word  "  becomingness ;"  and  which  may  be  called  the 
symmetry  of  the  body  politic.  We  may  select  a  few 
of  the  more  prominent  distinctions  of  society,  and  see 
how  love  preserves  them  without  giving  offence. 

The  distinction  of  male  and  female  is  to  be  supported 
by  all  propriety  of  conduct.  On  the  part  of  the  man, 
if  he  be  single,  all  trifling  with  the  affections,  all  fa- 
miliarity with  the  person,  all  taking  advantage  of  the 
weakness  of  the  other  sex,  is  explicitly  forbidden ;  as 
is  all  neglect,  oppression  and  unkindness  towards  his 
wife,  if  he  be  married.  What  a  horrid  unseemliness  is 
it  on  the  part  of  a  husband,  to  become  either  the  slave 
or  the  tyrant  of  his  wife  ;  either  in  pitiful  weakness  to 
abdicate  the  throne  of  domestic  government,  or  to  make 
her  a  crouching  vassal,  trembling  in  its  shadow ;  and 
how  disgusting  a  spectacle  is  it  to  see  a  husband  aban- 
doning the  society  of  his  wife  for  the  company  of  other 
females,  and  flirting,  though,  perhaps,  with  no  criminal 
intention,  with  either  single  or  married  women.  On 
the  other  hand,  how  unseemly  in  unmarried  women, 
is  a  bold  obtrusiveness  of  manner,  an  impudent  for- 
wardness of  address,  a  clamorous  and  monopolizing 
strain  of  conversation,  an  evident  attempt  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  other  sex.  Modesty  is  the  brightest  or- 
nament of  the  female  character, — its  very  becoming- 
ness.  And  women,  if  married,  should  be  stayers  at 
home,  and  not  gossips  abroad ;  should  look  well  to  the 
ways  of  their  household,  and  preside  over  its  afiairs  in 
the  meekness  of  wisdom ;  for  domestic  indolence  and 
neglect  is,  in  a  wife  and  mother,  most  unseemly :  nor  is  it 
less  offensive  to  see  the  female  head  of  a  family  usurp- 
ing the  seat  of  government,  and  reducing  her  husband 


104 

to  the  rank  of  mere  prime  minister  to  the  queen.  Wo- 
men never  act  more  unseemly  than  when  they  become 
busy  meddling  partisans,  either  in  politics  or  church  af- 
fairs/ Nothing  can  be  more  oflfensive  than  to  see  a  fe- 
male busy-body  running  from  house  to  house  to  raise  a 
party,  and  to  influence  an  ecclesiastical  decision  ;  for- 
getting that  her  place  is  home,  and  her  duty  to  learn  in 
silence  of  her  husband.  Whatever  admiration  has  been 
bestowed  on  the  heroic  females  of  Sparta,  who  fought 
by  the  side  of  their  husbands,  no  such  eulogy  can  be  of- 
fered to  ecclesiastical  heroines,  whose  martial  ardour 
leads  them  into  the  arena  of  church  contentions.  Chris- 
tian charity  would  repress  all  this  unmeet,indecorous  zeal. 
Parents  and  guardians  will  be  guarded  by  love,  if  they 
yield  to  its  influence,  from  all  unbecoming  conduct. 
Fathers  will  neither  be  tyrannical  nor  too  indulgent ; 
will  neither  govern  their  children  as  slaves,  with  a  rod  of 

^  iron,  nor,  relaxing  all  discipline,  throw  the  reins  into 
their  hands  :  for  how  incongruous  is  tyranny  with  a  re- 
lation that  implies  the  tenderest  affection ;  and  how  un- 
seemly is  a  cessation  of  rule  in  one  who  is  invested  by 
heaven  with  a  sacred  authority.  Becomingness  on  the 
part  of  children,  requires  the  most  prompt  and  willing 
obedience,  the  most  genuine  and  manifest  affection,  the 
most  respectful  and  humble  demeanour,  towards  pa- 
rents, with  the  most  anxious,  and  ingenious  endeavours 

"^fio  promote  their  happiness.  Everything  approaching 
to  improper  familiarity,  much  mor^  to  pertness,  most  of 
all  to  refractoriness  of  manner,  in  a  child  towards  a  pa- 
rent, is  unbecoming  in  the  last  degree.  In  those  cases 
where  the  high  «noral  and  intellectual  qualities  of  pa- 
rents are  such  as  almost  to  command  the  exercise  of 
filial  piety  from  children,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  ren- 
dering it;  but  where  these  qualities  are  not  possess- 
ed, there  is  greater  danger  of  young  persons  forgetting 
what  is  due  to  the  parental  relation,  and  acting  very 
improperly  towards  those  who,  whatever  may  be  their 
faults,  are  still  their  parents.     It  is  excessively  unbe- 


105 

coming  to  hear  children  of  any  age,  however  matured 
or  advanced,  exposing,  perhaps  ridiculing,  their  parents* 
infirmities,  treating  their  opinions  with  scorn,  and  re- 
proving or  upbraiding  them  to  their  face.  Let  all 
young  people  recollect,  that  whatever  may  be  the  char- 
acter of  a  parent, 

"  A  mother  is  a  mother  still, 
The  holiest  thing  alive.''  ' 

In  the  distinction  of  superiors  and  inferiors,  it  is  very 
easy  to  see  what  kind  of  conduct  is  seemly,  and  what 
is  unsuitable.  To  the  former,  it  will  prohibit  all  im- 
proper familiarity — for  this  generates  contempt  and  at 
the  same  time,  all  pride  and  hauteur,  together  with  all 
insulting  condescension.  Inferiors  are  most  tenderly 
alive,  most  keenly  susceptible,  to  all  real  or  supposed 
slights  from  those  above  them  ;  and  the  feelings  excited 
by  such  treatment  are  of  the  most  painful  kind.  Pride 
is  the  most  cruel  of  the  passions,  being  utterly  reckless 
of  the  wounds  which  it  inflicts,  the  groans  which  it  ex- 
torts, or  the  tears  which  it  causes  to  flow.  Even  in  its 
mildest  exercise,  by  a  look  of  scorn,  by  a  word  of  in- 
sult, it  often  transfixes  a  barbed  arrow  in  the  breast  of 
an  inferior ;  while,  by  its  deliberate  and  persevering 
scheme  of  mortification,  it  remorselessly  crucifies  the 
object  of  its  contempt.  O  how  unbecoming  to  em- 
ploy superiority  only  as  an  eminence  from  whence,  as, 
with  a  sort  of  vulture  ferocity,  we  might  pounce  with 
greater  force  on  a  victim  below.  Dignified  affability  is 
the  becomingness  of  superiority,  which,  while  it  does 
not  remove  the  line  of  distinction,  does  not  render  it 
painfully  visible.  Love  will  make  us  cautious  not  to 
wound  the  feelings  of  others  by  talking  to  them  of  our 
superiority,  or  by  making  them  in  any  way  feel  it.  On 
the  part  of  inferiors,  it  will  prevent  all  encroaching  fa- 
miliarity, all  presuming  upon  manifested  kindness — all 
attempt,  or  even  wish,  to  level  the  distinctions  of  society 
• — ^11  rude,  uncourteous,  uncivil  demeanour.     Some 


106 

persons  seem  to  act  as  if  religion  removed  the  obliga- 
tion to  civility,  declared  war  with  courtesy,  and  involv- 
ed a  man  in  hostility  with  whatever  things  are  lovely. 
Incivility  or  rudeness,  manifested  by  the  poor  to  the 
rich,  by  servants  to  masters,  or  by  the  illiterate  to  the 
well-informed,  is  unfriendly  to  the  peace  and  good 
order  of  society,  and,  therefore,  contrary  to  Christian 
charity. 

Age  and  youth  are  also  distinctions  requiring  a  suita- 
ble or  becoming  line  of  conduct.  Levity,  puerility,  and 
folly,  are  among  the  qualities  which  would  be  indeco- 
rous in  the  former;  while  obtrusiveness,  forwardness, 
loquaciousness,  and  pertinacity;  would  be  unseemly  in 
the  latter :  age,  to  be  lovely,  should  treat  youth  with 
kindness  and  forbearance ;  while  youth  should  treat 
age  with  reverence,  respect  and  deference. 

These  distinctions,  when  carried  into  the  Church, 
where  they  exist  as  well  as  in  the  world,  should  be 
maintained  under  the  most  powerful  influence  of  the 
holy  disposition  which  we  are  now  illustrating.  This 
will  teach  us  with  all  candour  and  impartiality  to  judge 
of  our  station,  and  to  adorn  it  with  actions  that  are 
suitable  to  it.  Anything  unbecoming  is  sure  to  give 
offence,  and  to  produce  discomfort.  Whether  our  rank 
be  high  or  low,  we  cannot  violate  the  rule  which  pre- 
scribes its  duties  without  occasioning  pain. 

Men  are  united  in  society  like  the  organs  and  limbs 
in  the  human  body ;  and  no  one,  in  either  case,  can  be 
put  out  of  its  place  without  producing  uneasiness  in  the 
rest.  The  object  of  love  is  to  keep  all  in  their  proper 
places,  and  thus  to  promote  the  well-being  of  the  whole. 

There  is  another  sense  which  this  expression  will 
bear,  and  that  is,  love  does  not  allow  its  possessor  to 
act  unworthy  of  his  profession  as  a  disciple  of  Christ. 
Consistency  is  beauty  ;  and  the  want  of  which,  what- 
ever excellences  may  exist,  is  deformity.  The  bright- 
est displays  of  moral  worth  in  some  things,  if  associated 
with  obvious  and  great  improprieties  in  others,  lose  all 


107 

their  attraction  and  power  to  edify  or  delight,  and  are 
the  occasion  of  pain  instead  of  pleasure  to  the  specta- 
tor.    The  rule  which  the  Apostle  has  laid  down  is  par- 
ticularly worthy  of  the  attention  of  us  all — "  Whatso- 
ever things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good 
report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise, 
think  of  these  things."     It  is  not  enough  for  us  to 
acknowledge,  practically,  the  claims  of  truth,  purity, 
and  justice ;  but  we  must  also  meet  and  answer  every 
expectation  which  our  profession  and  our  principles 
have  raised.     Whatever  is  generally  esteemed  to  be 
lovely — whatever  is  usually  spoken  of  as  excellent — 
whatever  it  be  to  which  by  general  consent  we  attach 
the  idea  of  the  fair,  and  the  honourable,  and  the  praise- 
worthy,— ^that  must  a  follower  of  Christ  consider  to  be 
the  matter  of  his  duty.     There  is  nothing  good  in  itself, 
or  advantageous  to  others — nothing  that  is  calculated  to 
edify  by  the  power,  of  example,  or  to  bless  in  the  way 
of  direct  energy  and  influence — nothing  that  is  calcu- 
lated to  give  pleasure,  or  to  remove  distress, — ^but  what 
is  implied  in  the  very  nature  of  true  piety.     Religion 
is  the  likeness  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man  ;  and  a  Chris- 
tian is  truly  an  imitator  of  God  ;  hence  he  is  called 
"  to  walk-  worthy  of    God," — to    act  as    becometh 
one  who  professes  to  bear  the  divine  image.     Let  any 
one  contemplate  the  moral  attributes  of  the  Deity,  and 
think  what  that  man  ought  to  be  who  professes  to  give 
to  the  world  a  living  miniature  representation  of  this 
infinitely  glorious  Being.     On  the  ground  of  consisten- 
cy, he  should  be  blameless  and  harmless ;  a  follower 
only  of  that  which  is  good  ;  holy  in  all  manner  of  con- 
versation and  godliness  ;  a  beautiful  specimen  of  what- 
soever is  noble,  dignified,  generous,  and  useful.     The 
world  take  us  at  our  word  :  they  accept  our  profession  as 
the  rule  of  their  expectation ;  and  although  they  often 
look  for  too  much,  considering  the  present  imperfect 
state  of  human  nature,  yet,  to  a  certain  extent,  their 
demands  are   authorized    by  our  own  declarations. 


108 

What,  in  reason,  may  not  be  looked  for  from  one  who 
professes  to  have  received  the  word  of  Christ,  the  tem- 
per of  heaven,  the  impress  of  eternity,  the  nature  of 
God  ?  Hence,  the  least  deviations  from  rectitude  are 
apparent  in  those  who  say  such  things ;  the  least  specks 
of  imperfection  are  conspicuous  on  so  bright  a  ground  ; 
faults  stand  out  in  bold  relief  and  obtrusive  prominence, 
on  such  a  basement.  Our  profession  invites  the  eye 
of  scrutiny ;  we  are  not  suffered  to  pass  the  ordeal  of 
public  opinion  without  the  most  rigid  scrutiny;  we  are 
brought  out  from  obscurity,  and  held  up  to  be  examined 
in  the  light  of  the  sun.  Failings,  which  would  escape 
detection  in  others,  are  quickly  discerned  and  loudly 
proclaimed  in  us  :  and  it  is,  therefore,  of  immense  con- 
sequence that  we  should  take  care  what  manner  of 
persons  we  are.  Without  consistency,  even  our  good 
will  be  evil  spoken  of:  the  least  violation  of  this  rule 
will  attach  suspicion  to  the  most  distinguished  virtues, 
and  bring  discredit  on  the  best  of  our  actions. 

A  want  of  consistency  is  a  violation  of  the  law  of  love 
in  various  ways.  By  exciting  a  prejudice  against  reli- 
gion, it  does  harm  to  the  souls  of  men ;  it  makes  them 
satisfied  with  their  state  as  unconverted  persons,  by 
leading  them  to  consider  every  professor  of  a  more  se- 
rious regard  to  religion  as  a  hypocrite.  It  is  very  true 
that  this  is  unfair ;  that  it  is  attending  more  to  excep- 
tions than  the  general  rule ;  that  it  is  giving  credence 
to  little  things,  and  suffering  them  to  have  an  influence 
which  are  denied  to  the  greater  and  more  prevailing 
parts  of  the  character ; — but  as  this  is  their  way,  it 
makes  every  departure  from  consistency  on  our  part, 
not  only  sinful  but  injurious — not  only  guilty  in  the 
sight  of  God,  but  cruel  towards  man.  The  minor 
faults  of  Christians  do  more  harm,  in  the  way  of  har- 
dening the  hearts  of  sinners,  than  the  greatest  excesses 
of  the  openly  wicked  ;  for  this  reason,  that  nothing  else 
is  expected  from  the  latter.  Their  conduct  excites  no 
surprise,  produces  no  disappointment.     We  have  not 


100 

been  suflSciently  aware  of  this  :  we  have  confined  our 
attention  too  exclusively  to  the  avoidance  of  open  im- 
morality— we  have  not  directed  our  solicitude  enough 
to  "  the  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of  good  re- 
port." To  the  question,  "What  do  ye  more  than  oth- 
ers 1"  we  have  thought  it  enough  to  answer,  "  We  are 
more  pure,  more  true,  more  devotional,  more  zealous," 
without  being  careful  to  be  more  dignified,  more  hon- 
ourable, more  generous,  in  all  things.  Little  things 
have  been  forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  great  ones  ; 
secret  faults  have  been  lost  sight  of  in  the  abhorrence 
of  presumptions  sins. 

A  want  of  becomingness  is  a  violation  of  the  law  of 
love  in  another  way :  it  excites  a  prejudice  against  our 
brethren,  and  involves  them  in  our  failings.  By  such 
conduct  we  bring  suspicion  upon  others,  and  thus  sub- 
ject them  to  much  undeserved  obloquy.  The  world 
deals  unfairly  with  us  we  admit,  not  only  in  making  us 
thus  answerable  for  the  conduct  of  each  other,  but  also 
in  imputing  only  our  failings ;  for  however  splendid  and 
remarkable  may  be  the  Christian  excellences  that  any  of 
our  number  possess,  however  brilliant  the  example  of 
a  rare  and  eminent  believer  may  be,  they  do  not  let  his 
brightness  fall  upon  the  rest — he  is  alone  in  his  glory ; 
but  sins  are  generally  made  imputable,  and  the  shadow 
of  one  transgression  is  made  to  stretch,  perhaps,  over 
a  whole  community.  What  an  argument  is  this  with 
us  all  for  consistency ;  for  what  cruelty  is  it  to  our 
brethren  to  involve  them  by  our  inconsistencies  in  un- 
merited reproach ! 

Besides,  what  a  grief  of  mind  is  the  umcorthiness  of 
one  member,  to  all  who  are  associated  with  him  in  the  fel- 
lowship of  the  Gospel.  When  a  member  of  a  church 
has  acted  unbecomingly,  and  caused  the  ways  of  god- 
liness to  be  spoken  ill  of,  what  a  wound  has  been  inflicted 
on  the  body ;  for  if  one  member  suffer  in  his  reputation, 
all  the  rest  must,  so  far  as  their  peace  is  concerned, 
suffer  with  him.     This  is  one  of  the  finest  displays  of 

11 


no 

Christian  sympathy— one  of  the  purest  exhibitions  of 
love, — of  love  to  God,  to  Christ,  to  man,  to  holiness. 
The  misconduct  of  their  erring  brother  has  occasioned 
no  loss  to  them  of  worldly  substance,  or  bodily  ease, 
or  social  comfort ;  but  it  has  dishonoured  Christ,  has 
injured,  in  public  estimation,  the  cause  of  religion,  and 
tins  has  touched  the  tenderest  chord  of  the  renewed 
heart.  What  affliction  has  sometimes  been  circulated 
through  a  whole  society  by  the  unbecoming  behaviour 
of  a  single  member :  the  Apostle  has  given  a  very  stri- 
king proof  of  this,  in  his  representation  of  the  feelings 
of  the  Corinthian  Church,  after  they  had  taken  a  right 
view  of  the  delinquency  of  the  incestuous  person. 
"  For  behold  this  self-same  thing,  that  ye  sorrowed  af- 
ter a  godly  sort,  what  carefulness  it  wrought  in  you,  yea, 
what  clearmg  of  yourselves,  yea,  what  fervent  indigna- 
tion, yea,  what  fear,  yea,  what  vehement  desire,  yea, 
what  zeal,  yea,  what  revenge !"  This  is  only  a  coun- 
terpart of  what  often  happens  now,  and  shows  that  un- 
becomingness  is  a  most  flagrant  offence  against  the 
rule  of  Christian  love. 

Unbecomingness  may  be  considered  also  not  only  in 
a  general  point  of  view,  but  as  having  a  reference  to  our 
conduct  towards  our  brethren,  and  may  mean  any- 
thing unsuitable  to,  or  out  of  chaiacter  with,  our  pro- 
fession as  church  members. 

Improper  treatment  of  the  Pastor,  is  obviously  a  want 
of  the  decorum  of  love.  If  his  office  be  disesteemed, 
and  his  scriptural  authority  resisted ;  if  attempts  be 
made  to  lower  him  in  the  opinion  of  the  church,  and 
to  deprive  him  of  the  rule  with  which  he  is  invested  by 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  if  his  opinion  is  treated  with 
disrespect,  and  his  just  influence  over  the  feelings  of  his 
flock  be  undermined  ;  if  he  be  rudely  and  impertinently 
addressed ;  if  he  be  unnecessarily  opposed  in  his 
schemes  for  public  or  private  usefulness ;  if  his  ser- 
mons be  despised  or  neglected,  and  his  ecclesiastical 
administration  treated  with  suspicion  or  contempt ;  if 


Ill 

his  temporal  support  be  scantily  or  grudgingly  afforded'; 
if  his  comfort  be  not  carefully  consulted  and  assiduously 
built  up ; — there  is  a  flagrant  unbecomingness  on  the 
part  of  church  members  who  are  enjoined  "  to  obey 
them  that  have  the  rule  over  them,"  "  to  esteem  them 
very  highly  in  love  for  their  works'  sake,"  "  and  to  hold 
such  in  reputation." 

Lust  of  power,  and  an  ambitious  desire  of  prepondera- 
ting influence,  is  manifestly  unbecoming  in  one  who 
acknowledges  himself  the  member  of  a  society  where 
all  are  equals,  and  all  are  the  servants  of  a  master  who 
has  thus  addressed  his  disciples — "  Ye  know  that  the 
princes  of  the  Gentiles  exercise  dominion  over  them, 
and  they  that  are  great  exercise  authority  upon  them  ; 
but  it  shall  not  be  so  among  you  ;  but  whosoever  will 
be  great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  minister;  and 
whosoever  will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your 
servant.  Even  as  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a 
ransom  for  many,"  A  love  of  power  seems  almost 
inherent  in  the  human  bosom,  and  is  an  operation  of 
that  selfishness  which  enters  so  deeply  into  the  essence 
of  original  sin.  Nothing  can  be  more  opposed  to  love 
than  this.  Ambition,  in  its  progress  through  its  bust- 
ling and  violent  career,  is  the  most  unsocial  and  un- 
charitable passion  that  can  exist.  The  furies  are  its 
allies,  and  it  tramples  down  in  its  course  all  the  charities 
and  courtesies  of  life.  When  this  disposition  has  taken 
full  possession  of  the  heart,  there  is  no  cruelty  which  it 
will  hesitate  to  inflict,  no  desolation  of  which  it  will 
scruple  to  be  the  cause.  The  lesser  exhibitions  of  this 
vice,  and  its  more  moderated  energies,  will  still  be  attend- 
ed with  some  proofs  of  its  unsocial  nature.  Let  a 
man  once  desire  to  be  pre-eminent  and  predominant, 
as  it  respects  influence  or  power,  and  he  will  not  be 
very  regardless  of  the  feelings  of  those  whom  he  de- 
sires to  subjugate.  It  is  much  to  be  deplored,  that  the 
Christian  church  should  ever  be  the  field  where  rival 


112 

candidates  for  power,  struggle  for  superiority ;  yet  how 
often  has  this  been  seen  to  be  the  case,  not  merely  in 
the  Conclave  where  aspiring  cardinals  have  put  in  mo- 
tion all  their  artifice,  and  finesse,  and  duplicity,  to  gain 
the  tiara ;  not  merely  amongst  mitred  prelates  for  a 
higher  seat  on  the  episcopal  bench ; — no ;  but  amongst 
the  lay  brethren  of  the  church.  How  anxious  and 
restless  have  they  sometimes  appeared,  to  be  leading 
men,  influential  members,  the  oracle  of  the  minister, 
and  the  ruling  elders  of  the  church.  They  must  not 
only  be  consulted  in  everything,  but  consulted  first. 
Every  plan  must  emanate  from  them,  or  else  be  appro- 
ved by  them  before  it  is  submitted  to  the  rest.  The 
Apostle  has  drawn  their  picture  to  the  life,  where  he 
saith — "  I  wrote  unto  the  church;  but  Diotrephes,  who 
loveth  to  have  the  pre-eminence  among  them,  receiveth 
us  not.  Wherefore,  if  1  come,  I  will  remember  his 
deeds  which  he  doeth,  prating  against  us  with  malicious 
words ;  and  not  content  therewith,  neither  doth  he  him- 
self receive  the  brethren,  and  forbiddeth  them  that 
would,  and  casteth  them  out  of  the  church."*  Such 
an  individual  must  be  a  source  of  discomfort  to  his 
brethren  in  communion.  There  may  be  no  competitor 
with  him  for  the  sceptre  who  regards  him  with  envy, 
but  the  whole  community  are  grieved  and  offended  with 
his  unlovely  and  encroaching  disposition. 

There  are  cases,  it  is  admitted,  in  which  age,  experi- 
ence, wisdom,  benevolence,  and  activity,  are  so  beauti- 
fully combined  in  an  individual,  as  to  place  him,  more 
by  general  consent,  than  by  his  own  efforts,  above  all 
his  brethren  in  influence.  When  he  openeth  his  mouth 
in  wisdom,  all  are  silent ;  and  the  pastor  hearkens  with 
the  rest  in  respectful  deference  to  his  opinion.  No  one 
would  think  of  proposing  any  scheme  till  he  had  been 

*  3  John  9,  10. — It  is  pretty  evident  to  me  that  Diotrephes  was  a 
minister ;  but  the  features  of  bis  picture  apply  with  equal  force  to  an 
ambitious  and  aspiring  layman,  whose  lust  of  power  is  still  more  cen« 
•urable,  as  it  has  not  even  the  basis  of  office  to  rest  upoi). 


113 

cousulted,  and  his  disapproval,  mildly  expressed,  would 
be  thought  a  sufficient  reason  for  laying  it  aside.  He 
has  power,  but  it  has  come  to  him  without  his  seeking 
it,  and  it  is  employed  not  to  exhalt  himself,  but  to  benefit 
the  church.  His  sway  is  the  influence  of  love ;  and 
all  that  influence  is  employed  by  him,  not  to  raise  him- 
self into  a  rival  with  his  pastor  for  the  upper  seat  in  the 
church,  but  to  support  the  authority  and  dignity  of  the 
pastoral  office.  Such  men  we  have  sometimes  seen  in 
our  communities,  and  they  have  been  a  blessing  to  the 
people,  and  a  comfort  to  the  minister.  If  any  indi- 
viduals could  have  been  found  in  the  circle  where  they 
moved,  so  flippant  and  so  forward  as  to  treat  them  with 
the  least  degree  of  disrespect,  every  one  besides  would 
have  been  loud  in  the  expression  of  their  disapprobation 
of  such  an  act  of  censurable  indecorum. 

Unseemliness  in  the  conduct  of  a  church  member 
towards  his  brethren,  applies  to  all  that  is  rude,  unman- 
nerly, or  uncivil.  "  No  ill-bred  man,"  says  Dr.  Adam 
Clark,  in  his  comments  on  this  word,  "or  what  is  com- 
monly termed  rude  or  unmannerly,  is  a  Christian" — 
certainly  not  a  consistent  one.  "  A  man  may  have  a 
natural  bluntness,  or  be  a  clown,  and  yet  there  may  be 
nothing  boorish,  or  hoggish  in  his  manner.  I  must 
apologize  for  using  such  words,  but  they  best  express 
the  evil  against  which  I  wish  both  powerfully  and  suc- 
cessfully to  declaim.  I  never  wish  to  meet  with  those 
who  affect  to  be  called  'blunt  honest  men;'  who  f«el 
themselves  above  all  the  forms  of  civility  and  respect, 
and  care  not  how  many  they  put  to  pain — how  many 
they  displease.  But  let  me  not  be  misunderstood :  I 
do  not  contend  for  ridiculous  ceremonies,  and  hollow 
compfinients :  there  is  surely  a  medium ;  and  a  sensible 
Christian  man  will  not  be  long  at  a  loss  to  find  it  out. 
Even  that  people  who  profess  to  be  above  all  worldly 
forms,  and  are  generally  stiff  enough,  yet  are  rarely 
found  to  be  rude,  uncivil,  or  ill  bred."  There  is  much 
good  sense  in  these  remarks,  that  deserves  the  atten- 
U* 


114 

tion  of  all  professing  Christians  who  have  the  credit  of 
religion  and  the  comfort  of  their  brethren  at  heart.  It 
is  inconceivable  what  a  great  degree  of  unnecessary 
distress  is  occasioned  by  a  disregard  of  this  rule  ;  and 
how  many  hearts  are  continually  bleeding,  from  the 
wounds  inflicted  by  incivility  and  rudeness.  We 
should  be  careful  to  avoid  this ;  for  religion  gives  no 
man  a  release  from  the  courtesies  of  life.  In  our  prU 
vate  intercourse  with  our  brethren,  we  should  be  anxious 
to  give  no  offence.  If  we  feel  it  our  duty  at  any  time,  as 
we  may,  and  ought  to  expostulate  with  a  brother  on  the 
impropriety  of  his  conduct,  we  should  be  most  studi- 
ously cautious  to  abstain  from  all  appearance  of  what 
is  impertinently  officious,  or  offensively  blunt.  Reproof, 
or  even  expostulation,  is  rarely  palatable,  even  when 
administered  with  the  honied  sweetness  of  Christian 
kindness ;  but  it  is  wormwood  and  gall  when  mingled 
up  with  uncourteousness,  and  will  generally  be  rejected 
with  disdain  and  disgust.  We  must  never  think  of  act- 
ing the  part  of  a  reprover,  till  we  have  put  on  humility 
as  a  garment,  and  taken  up  the  law  of  kindness  in  our 
lips. 

Nothing  is  more  likely  to  lead  to  incivility,  than  re- 
peated and  vexatious  interruptions,  when  engaged  in  some 
interesting  or  important  business,  or  required  to  com- 
ply with  unreasonable  requests.  I  have  known  cases 
in  which,  when  application  has  been  made  for  what  the 
applicant  thought  to  be  a  very  reasonable  matter,  his 
request  has  been  treated  with  such  scorn,  and  denied 
with  such  abruptness  and  coarseness  of  manner,  as  to 
send  him  home  with  an  arrow  in  his  heart ;  when  a  few 
moments  spent  in  explanation,  or  a  denial  given  in  kind 
and  respectful  language,  would  have  completely  satis- 
fied him.  It  is  admitted  that  it  is  somewhat  trying,  and 
it  is  a  trial  of  very  common  occurrence  in  the  present 
day,  to  be  called  from  important  occupations  to  listen 
to  tales  of  wo,  or  read  the  statement  of  want,  or  an- 
swer the  inquiries  of  ignorance  :  but  still  we  must  not 


115 

be,  ought  not  to  be,  rude.  Sudden  interruptions  are 
apt  to  throw  a  man  off  his  guard  :  he  has  scarcely  time 
to  call  into  exercise  his  principles,  before  his  passions 
are  up  and  busy.  It  is  said  of  Mr.  Romaine,  that  he 
was  one  day  called  upon  by  a  poor  woman  in  distress 
of  soul,  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  instruction  and  con- 
solation. The  good  man  was  busy  in  his  study ;  and 
on  being  informed  that  a  poor  woman  wanted  to  con- 
verse with  him  below,  exclaimed,  with  great  incivility 
of  manner,  "  Tell  her  I  cannot  attend  to  her."  The 
humble  applicant,  who  was  within  hearing  of  the  re- 
ception her  case  had  met  with,  said,  "  Ah,  Sir  !  your 
master  would  not  have  treated  thus  a  burdened  penitent 
who  came  to  him  for  mercy."  "  No,  no,"  replied  the 
good  man,  softened  by  an  appeal  which  his  heart  could 
not  resist,  "  he  would  not ;  come  in,  come  in !"  Too, 
too  often  has  the  same  petulant  indecorum  been  mani- 
fested by  others,  without  being  accompanied  by  the  same 
reparation :  ihey  have  pierced  the  heart  and  left  the 
wound  to  fester:  the  petitioners  have  carried  away 
from  their  door  their  misery,  not  only  unrelieved  but 
greatly  aggravated.  But  there  is  a  peculiar  sensitive- 
ness on  the  subject  of  pecuniary  contributions  in  some 
persons ;  to  ask  for  them  is  an  offence,  which  they  pay 
back  in  insult.*     They  are  the  Nabals  of  the  Church — 


*  I  must  here  specify  the  applications  which  are  so  frequent  in  the 
present  day  for  the  support  of  churches  and  public  institutions.  I  am 
aware  that  the  bells  and  knockers  of  some  persons  doors  are  rarely 
silent  long  together,  or  their  parlours  and  counting-houses  rarely  free 
from  "beggars''  asinglehourof  any  day :  I  am  also  aware  how  trying  it 
is  to  be  called  away  from  occupations  of  importance  to  attend  to  such 
cases ;  but  even  this  does  not  justify  a  man  for  going  into  a  passion  at 
the  sight  of  a  red  book  and  a  black  coat,  and  almost  ordering  the  bearer 
off  the  premises  as  an  impostor  or  vagrant.  Let  such  persons  ask, 
whether  it  is  not  misery  enough  to  pace  the  streets  of  a  city  or  large 
town,  and,  at  the  end  of  a  long  day's  weary  pilgrimage,  have  to  count 
up  far  more  "  negatives"  than  pounds  ?  I  have  never  known  by  expe- 
rience, but  I  have  heard  by  reports,  the  sorrows  of  beggars ;  and  from 
regard  to  common  humanity,  as  well  as  from  a  wish  to  save  the  minis- 
terial character  from  degradation,  I  do  most  ardently  desire  some 


116 

if,  indeed,  the  Church  could  have  a  Nabal.  What  can 
be  more  unseemly  than  words  which  would  disgrace  a 
man,  dropping, — dropping  !  no  flowing  in  a  stream, — 
from  the  lips  of  a  professing  Christian. 

Unbecoming  rudeness  should  be  most  sedulously 
avoided  in  our  public  intercourse  with  the  churchy  and  in 
our  social  circles,  when  meeting  as  brethren.  Every 
thing  of  flat  contradiction,  of  unwarrantable  suspicion 
concerning  the  truth  of  a  statement ;  all  seeming  con- 
tempt for  the  opinions  of  others ;  all  attempts  to  inter- 
scheme,  in  place  of  the  present  mode  of  raising  money  from  rich 
Christians,  to  help  the  necessities  of  their  poorer  brethren.  But  till 
that  scheme  shall  be  devised — and  I  am  afraid  the  time  is  far  distant 
which  shall  produce  it, — let  me  plead  for  civility  towards  those  who 
are  still  doomed  to  bear  the  yoke  of  bondage.  "  Forasmuch  as  ye 
did  it  unto  one  of  tlie  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  me." 
So  says  Christ  of  his  brethren,  and  says  it  in  reference  both  to  benefits 
and  neglects.  When  popular  men  travel  from  place  to  place,  many 
houses  are  open  to  receive  them — many  tables  spread  to  entertain 
them.  They  meet  with  no  rudeness,  no  unkindness.  But  this  is  for 
their  own  sakes.  Our  regard  for  Christ  is  proved  by  our  conduct  to 
the  least,  not  to  the  greatest,  of  his  brethren.  And  are  the  great  min* 
isters  free  from  all  blame  in  reference  to  their  conduct  towards  theic 
humble  brethren  7  They  are  glad  to  entertain  the  popular  favourites 
of  the  day — the  men  of  name  or  talents ;  but  how  do  they  behave 
to  the 

"  Multi  prseterea  quos  fame  obscura  recondit  7 

Do  they  not  order  these  to  be  sent  away  from  their  door  without  an 
audience,  or  keep  them  long  waiting  for  an  interview,  and  then  dismiss 
the  good  man,  sorrowfully  exclaiming,  "  Am  (  not  thy  brother  7*' 

Whilst  we  cheerfully  accord  the  sentiments  expressed  in  the  above 
note,  we  still  think  there  is  need  for  the  exercise  of  Christian  Charity 
on  the  part  of  those,  who  make  applications  for  aid.  Forgetting  that 
the  benevolent  tire  frequently  called  upon,  and  that  they  have  a  right  to 
regulate  their  subscriptions ;  agents  are  strongly  tempted  to  question 
the  liberality  of,  and  to  impute  wrong  motives  to  those,  who  do  not 
contribute  as  largely  as  was  anticipated.  Whilst  there  are  causes 
justly  claiming  the  aid  of  the  benevolent  in  our  cities  ;  still  there  is  a 
radical  evil  in  the  custom  so  prevalent  in  this  day,  of  hastening  to  the 
cities  to  build  churches  in  the  country.  As  a  general  fact  it  will  be 
(bund  true,  that  communities  are  able  bt  proper  effort  and  dui 
BCONOMT  to  provide  suitable  houses  of  worship  for  themselves. 

Am.  Eo. 


I 


117 


rupt  or  bear  down,  by  clamour  and  vehemence,  those 
with  whom  we  may  be  engaged  in  discussion,  should 
be  very  anxiously  abstained  from.  It  is  truly  painful  to 
observe  what  an  utter  disregard  for  the  feelings  of  their 
brethren  is  often  manifested  by  some  ardent  sticklers 
for  their  own  opinions  and  plans.  But  is  not  civility  a 
Christian  grace  1  Did  not  the  apostle  say,  Be  courte- 
ous] Why  should  that  which  is  considered  by  the 
world  as  a  rich  decoration  of  character,  as  softening 
and  embellishing  the  intercourse  of  society,  and  as  so 
important  and  necessary  as  to  be  placed  under  the 
guardianship  of  what  is  called  the  law  of  honour,  and 
to  be  avenged,  for  the  slightest  violation  of  it,  by  the 
punishment  of  death  ; — why  should  this  ever  be  con- 
sidered as  of  little  moment  in  the  business  of  religion 
and  the  fellowship  of  the  faithful  1  If  rudeness  be  con- 
sidered as  a  blemish  upon  talents,  rank,  fame,  must  it 
not  be  viewed  also  as  a  blot  and  deformity  upon  piety  ? 
Most  certainly  it  is  regarded  as  such  by  charity,  whose 
anxiety  to  do  whatever  would  give  pleasure,  and  to  avoid 
whatever  would  occasion  distress,  is  not  greater  than 
its  delicate  perception  of  every  thing  that  will  contri- 
bute to  this  end. 

We  see  in  this  subject  the  wonderful  excellence  of 
Christianity,  as  a  code  of  morals,  a  rule  of  conduct, 
and  a  body  of  principles ;  for  in  addition  to  specific 
laws,  intended  to  operate  in  the  production  of  certain 
virtues,  and  the  prevention  of  certain  vices,  it  has 
general  and  comprehensive  precepts,  capable  of 
universal  application,  of  so  plain  a  nature  as  to  be 
understood  by  the  dullest  intellect,  and  possessing,  at 
the  same  time,  a  kind  of  beauty,  which  gives  them 
an  interest  in  every  heart;  so  that  if  in  the  specialities 
of  Christian  morals,  properly  so  called,  any  case  should 
be  overlooked,  or  any  situation  should  not  be  reached 
— any  distinction  between  virtue  and  vice  should  be  so 
minute  as  to  be  imperceptible — any  delicacy  of  char- 
acter so  refined  as  not  to  be  taken  into  the  account, — 
here  is  something  to  supply  the  defect,  and  render  the 


fe 


118 

law  of  God  perfect  for  converting  the  soul.  Love  does 
not  act  unbecomingly;  and  who  is  so  ignorant,  if  he 
would  but  consult  his  conscience,  as  not  to  know  what 
would  be  thought  by  others  unbecoming  in  himself? 


■A 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE    DISINTERESTEDNESS    OF    LOVE. 


■  Charity,  seeketh  not  her  own." 


If  it  were  required  to  give  a  brief  and  summary  de- 
scription of  man's  original  apostacy,  we  might  say,  that 
it  was  his  departure  from  G  od, — the  fountain  of  his  hap- 
piness, and  the  end  of  his  existence, — and  retiring  into 
himself  as  the  ultimate  end  of  all  his  actions :  and  if  it 
were  also  asked,  what  is  the  essence  of  his  sin,  the  sum 
of  his  moral  depravity,  we  might  say,  to  love  himself 
supremely,  to  seek  himself  finally  and  exclusively,  to 
make  self,  in  one  shape  or  another,  the  centre  to  which 
all  his  busy  thoughts,  anxious  cares,  and  diligent  pur- 
suits constantly  tend.  Self-love  is  the  most  active  and 
reigning  principle  in  fallen  nature;  self  is  the  great  idol 
which  mankind  are  naturally  disposed  to  worship ;  and 
selfishness  the  grand  interest  to  which  they  are  devo- 
tedly attached.  But  the  grace  of  God,  when  it  re- 
news the  heart,  so  corrects  and  subdues  this  disposition, 
that  it  is  no  longer  the  ascendant  of  the  mind ;  and 
plants  in  the  human  bosom  the  principle  of  benevo- 
lence— a  principle  which  as  it  leads  us  to  love  God  su- 
premely, and  our  neighbour  as  ourselves,  is  the  direct 
contrary  of  selfishness. 


120 

Believing  that  the  perfection  of  virtue  lies  in  disin- 
terested love,  it  follows,  that  the  nearer  we  approach  to 
this  state  of  mind,  the  nearer  we  come  to  sinless  moral 
excellence.  This  is  the  temper  of  the  innumerable 
company  of  angels— of  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect.  It  has  been  argued,  that  we  take  delight  in 
the  happiness  of  others,  because  their  happiness  increas- 
es our  own :  but  the  circumstance  of  our  happiness 
being  increased  by  promoting  theirs,  is  itself  a  convinc- 
ing proof  of  the  existence  and  exercise  of  an  antece- 
dent good  will  towards  them.  Our  felicity  is  raised  by 
theirs.  Why? — because  we  love  them.  Why  am  I 
made  unhappy  by  the  sight  of  another's  wo  1 — ^because 
I  have  good  will  to  the  subject  of  distress.  It  is  true  I 
am  gratified  by  relieving  him,  and  my  comfort  would  be 
disturbed  if  I  did  not ;  but  what  is  the  origin  of  these 
feelings  ? — certainly  a  previous  good  will  towards  them. 
It  is  not  aflirmea,  that  all  pity  proceeds  from  holy  love ; 
but  that  where  love  does  exist,  and  in  the  proportion 
in  which  it  exists,  it  is  disinterested  and  is  distinguished 
from  selfishness.  It  may  be  proper  here  to  distinguish 
between  self-love  and  selfishness;  not  that  they  are  es- 
sentially different,  but  only  in  the  use  of  the  terms  as 
they  are  employed  in  common  discourse. 

By  selfishness,  we  mean  such  a  regard  to  our  own 
things,  as  is  inconsistent  with,  and  destructive  of,  a 
right  regard  to  the  things  of  others :  whereas  by  self- 
love,  we  mean  nothing  more  than  that  attention  to  our 
own  affairs  which  we  owe  to  ourselves  as  part  of  uni- 
versal being.  Selfishness  means  the  neglect  or  injury 
of  others,  in  order  to  concentrate  our  views,  and  de- 
sires, and  pursuits  in  ourselves;  while  self-love  means 
only  that  proper  and  due  regard  to  our  own  interests 
which  we  may  pay,  without  the  neglect  or  injury  of  our 
neighbour. 

Self-love,  when  exercised  in  connexion  with,  and 
subordinate  to,  good  will  to  mankind,  as  it  may  be,  is 
not  only  consistent  with  virtue,  but  is  a  part  of  it;  but 
when  not  thus  connected,  it  degenerates  into  selfishness. 


m 

Selfishness  leads  men  to  seek  their  own  interests  in 
opposition  to  the  interests  of  others.  Multitudes  care 
not  whom  they  oppress,  so  as  they  can  establish  their 
own  power ;  whom  they  vilify  and  degrade  so  as  they 
can  increase  their  own  fame  ;  whom  they  impoverish, 
so  as  they  can  accumulate  their  own  wealth ;  whom 
they  distress,  so  as  they  can  augment  their  own  com- 
forts. This  is  the  worst  and  most  cruel  operation  of 
selfishness.  It  is  the  same  propensity,  only  sharpened, 
and  guided,  and  rendered  the  more  mischievous,  by  the 
aid  of  reason,  as  that  which  exists  in  the  vulture  and  the 
tiger,  and  which  gorges  itself  to  repletion,  deaf  to  the 
piercing  cries  of  the  helpless  victim  which  struggles  in 
its  talons. 

Intent  only  on  gratification,  it  riots  amidst  misery,  if 
by  this  means  it  can  aggrandize  itself.  Looking  on  the 
possessions  of  those  around  only  with  an  envious  eye, 
it  is  solicitous  that  they  may  be  appropriated  in  some 
way  to  itself.  This  is  a  horrible  and  truly  infernal  dis- 
position*; for  it  would  reign  with  a  kind  of  universal 
despotism,  would  subdue  all  into  vassalage,  and  suffer 
nothing  to  exist,  but  what  was  tributary  to  its  own  com- 
fort. 

Selfishness  sometimes  causes  its  subjects  only  to  neg- 
lect the  things  of  others.  They  do  not  oppress,  or  in- 
jure, or  despoil ;  they  are  neither  robbers  nor  calumni- 
ators ;  but  they  are  so  engrossed  by  self-interest,  and 
so  absorbed  in  self-gratification,  as  to  be  utterly  regard- 
less of  the  miseries  or  comfort  of  which  they  cannot 
but  be  the  spectators.  They  have  no  sympathies,  no 
benevolent  sensibihties ;  they  have  cut  themselves  off 
from  their  species,  and  care  nothing  for  the  happiness  of 
any  of  their  neighbours.  Their  highest  boast  and  at- 
tainment in  virtue  is,  to  wrong  none  :  their  idea  of  ex- 
cellence is  purely  of  a  negative  kind  ;  to  dispel  sorrow, 
to  relieve  want,  to  diffuse  gladness,  especially  to  make 
sacrifices  ;  to  do  this,  is  an  effort  which  they  have  never 
tried,  and  which  they  have  no  inclination  to  try.  The 
world  might  perish,  if  the  desolation  did  not  reach 

12 


122 

them.  Miserable  and  guilty  creatures,  they  forg-et  that 
they  will  be  punished  for  not  doing-  good,  as  well  as  for 
doing  evil.  The  unprofitable  servant  was  condemned ; 
and  the  wicked  are  represented,  at  the  last  day,  as 
doomed  to  hell,  not  for  inflicting  sorrow,  but  for  not  re- 
lieving it. 

A  man  is  guilty  of  selfishness,  if  he  seeks  his  own 
things  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  regard  he  pays  to  the 
things  of  others. 

If,  from  a  regard  to  our  reputation,  we  cannot  live  in 
the  total  neglect  of  those  around  us,  and,  in  deference 
either  to  public  opinion,  or  to  the  remonstrances  of  our 
consciences,  we  are  compelled  to  yield  something  to  the 
claims  of  the  public  ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  our  conces- 
sions may  be  so  measured  in  quantit}',  and  made  with 
such  reluctance  and  ill  will,  that  our  predominant  self- 
ishness may  be  as  clearly  rhanifested  by  what  we  give, 
as  by  what  we  withhold.  That  which  we  call  our  lib- 
erality, manifests,  in  this  case,  our  avarice ;  that  which 
we  denominate  generosity,  demonstrates  our  sinful  self- 
love. 

Selfishness  sometimes  seeks  its  own,  under  the  pre- 
tence  and  profession  of  promoting  the  happiness  of  others. 
Where  the  ruling  passion  of  the  heart  is  the  love  of  ap- 
plause, large  sacrifices  of  wealth,  and  time,  and  ease, 
and  feeling,  will  be  readily  made  for  fame  ;  and  where 
men  have  objects  to  gain,  which  require  kindness,  con- 
ciliation, and  attention,  nothing  in  this  way  is  too  much 
to  be  done  to  accomplish  their  purpose.  This  is  a  dis- 
gusting operation  of  this  very  disgusting  temper,  when 
all  its  seeming  good  will  is  but  an  efllux  of  kindncsp, 
which  is  to  How  back  again,  in  full  tide,  into  the  recep- 
tacle of  self.  Many  are  the  detestable  traders,  whose 
generosity  is  only  a  barter  for  something  in  return. 
How  much  of  the  seeming  goodness  of  human  nature, 
of  the  sympathy  with  human  wo,  of  the  pity  for  want, 
of  the  anxiety  for  the  comfort  of  wretchedness,  which 
passes  current  for  virtue  among  mankind,  is  nothing 
better  than  a  counterfeit  imitation  of  benevolence, — is 


»  123 

known  only  to  that  God  whose  omniscient  eye  traces 
the  secret  workings  of  our  depravity  through  all  the 
labyrinths  of  a  deceitful  heart. 

But  notice  now  the  subjects,  in  reference  to  which 
selfishness  is  indulged. 

Property  is  the  first.  It  shows  itself  in  an  anxiety  to 
obtain  wealth,  and  an  unwillingness  to  part  with  it ;  a 
disposition  greedy  as  the  sea,  and  barren  as  the  shore. 
You  will  see  some  men  so  excessively  eager  to  get 
profit,  that  they  are  ever  watching  to  take  undue  advan- 
tage, and  so  keen-eyed  in  looking  after  their  own,  that 
they  need  be  closely  inspected,  to  prevent  them  from 
taking  more  than  their  own :  for  a  man  who  is  pre- 
vailingly selfish,  can  hardly  be  honest.  And  what  they 
gain,  they  keep  :  neither  the  cause  of  humanity,  nor  of 
religion,  can  extort  money  from  them,  except  now  and 
tlien,  to  get  rid  of  an  importunate  suitor,  or  to  prevent 
their  reputation  from  being  utterly  ruined. 

It  is  sometimes  exercised  in  reference  to  opinion. 
Some  will  not  bear  contradiction  ;  they  must  be  listen- 
ed to  as  sages;  to  question  what  they  say  is  to  insult 
them,  and  is  sure  to  bring  down  upon  the  presumptuous 
sceptic  their  contempt  or  their  frown.  They  will 
scarcely  allow  any  one  to  speak  but  themselves  ;  they 
must  be  the  oracle  of  every  company  and  the  director 
of  every  affair,  or  they  retire  in  disgust,  and  refuse  to 
act  at  all.  In  the  concerns  of  our  churches,  this  is  oft- 
en seen  and  felt.  What  is  it  but  pure  selfishness,  that 
leads  any  one  to  wish  that  he  should  dictate  to  the  rest ; 
that  his  opinion  should  be  law ;  and  his  wishes  be  con- 
sulted and  obeyed  1  This  is  not  love  ;  no,  love  gives 
up  her  own,  where  conscience  does  not  interfere  to  for- 
bid it,  and  meekly  and  quietly  resigns  its  wishes  to  in- 
crease peace  and  promote  harmony :  its  object  is  the 
public  good,  and  its  law  is,  the  best  means  of  promo- 
ting the  general  welfare.  If  in  the  intercourse  of  life, 
or  the  affairs  of  a  church,  every  individual  determined 
to  consult  only  his  own  views  and  wishes,  society  would 
DC  dissolved,  and  its  separate  parts  embroiled  in  a  state 
of  mutual  conflict.     In  the  various  discussions  whiqh 


come  before  a  public  body,  Selfishness  says,  "  I  am 
sure  my  opinion  is  correct ;  and  I  will,  if  possible,  have 
iny  way :"  but  the  language  of  Love  is,  "  I  have  stated 
my  opinion  and  my  wishes ;  if  the  former  does  not 
carry  conviction,  1  by  no  means  wish  it  to  be  adopted, 
nor  my  desires  to  be  giatified,  I  am  anxious  for  the 
comfort  of  my  brethren,  and  I  yield  my  wishes  to 
theirs." 

Some  persons  have  acquired  habits  in  their  general  con- 
duct, which  are  exceedingly  annoying  to  others;  they  have 
sources  of  personal  gratification,  peculiarities  of  hu- 
mour, in  which  it  is  impossible  to  indulge,  without 
greatly  incommoding  those  around  them  :  but  so  detest- 
ably selfish  is  their  disposition,  at  least  with  regard  to 
these  practices,  that  let  who  will  be  disturbed,  offend- 
edj  or  put  to  serious  inconvenience,  they  will  not  fore- 
go, in  the  least  degree,  their  accustomed  indulgence. 
When  the  unfortunate  sufferers  were  expiring  in  the 
Black  Hole  at  Calcutta,  and  entreated  the  centinels  to 
represent  their  agonizing  and  fatal  condition  to  the  ty- 
rant who  had  imprisoned  them,  the  guards  answered, 
<*  No  ;  he  is  enjoying  his  repose,  and  it  will  be  certain 
death  to  us  if  we  disturb  him,  even  for  your  relief" 
And  what  better  in  principle,  though  cei-tainly  a  less 
degree  of  its  operation,  is  that  regard  to  their  appetite, 
ease,  or  humour,  which  many  indulge  to  the  annoyance 
of  their  neighbours,  and  which  they  indulge  against  the 
remonstrances  of  those  who  suffer  ?  In  short,  that  re- 
gard to  our  comfort  which  leads  us  to  neglect  or  sacri- 
fice the  felicity  of  another,  let  the  object  to  which  it 
is  directed  be  what  it  may,  is  the  selfishness  which  kind- 
ness opposes  and  destroys. 

This  hateful  disposition  has  contrived  to  conceal  it- 
self under  many  false  names  and  disguises,  and  thus  to 
find  protection  from  much  of  the  obloquy  which  it  de- 
serves, and  which  would  otherwise  be  more  unsparing- 
ly heaped  upon  it. 

The  plea  of  frugality,  or  a  just  regard  to  the  claims 
of  a  family,  has  often  been  urged  as  an  excuse  for  the 
selfishness  of  avarice.     A  mfoi  certainly  must  take  care 


125 

of  his  own,  but  not  to  the  injury,  or  even  to  the  neglect, 
of  all  besides.  "  I  have  no  more,"  it  is  often  said,  "  than 
I  want  for  my  style  of  living ;  and  that  style  I  think 
necessary  for  my  rank  in  life.  I  spend  all  I  get  upon 
my  family,  and  hoard  nothing ;  how,  then,  can  I  be 
selfish  1"  Mistaken  mortal !  do  you  forget  that  a  man's 
family,  is  himself  multiplied — himself  reflected.  Selfish ! 
yes,  you  are  detestably  so,  if  you  spend  all  upon  your- 
self and  family,  however  lavish  and  unsparing  you  may 
be  to  them. 

No  expression,  no  sentiment,  has  ever  been  more 
abused  than  that  of  the  apostle — "  Do  all  to  the  glory 
of  God."  It*  has  been  employed  to  disguise  the  most 
improper  motives,  and  never  more  frequently,  nor  more 
profanely  employed,  than  when  it  has  been  used  to 
give  a  character  of  religious  zeal  to  actions  which  every 
eye  could  discern  originated  in  an  unmixed  selfishness. 
It  is  to  be  feared,  that  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall 
be  disclosed,  it  will  be  found  that,  while  much  has  been 
professedly  done  for  the  glory  of  God  in  the  affairs  of 
religion,  pure  zeal  for  God's  glory  is  a  very  rare  thing. 
Certain  it  is,  that  much  of  what  has  been  carried  on 
under  the  authority  of  this  truly  sublime  phrase,  has 
emanated  from  a  far  less  hallowed  principle.  The  Gos- 
pel has  been  preached  by  ministers  ;  places  of  worship 
have  been  built  by  hearers ;  distant  lands  have  been 
visited  by  missionaries  :  yea,  imprisonment  and  death 
may  have  been  sought  by  martyrs,  in  some  cases,  not 
from  pure  zeal  for  God's  glory,  but  under  the  influ- 
ence of  selfishness.  All  sorts  of  artful  practices  have 
been  supported,  all  kinds  of  stormy  passions  have  been 
indulged,  all  kinds  of  injuries  have  been  inflicted, — un- 
der the  pretence  of  glorifying  God  ;  but  which,  in  fact, 
are  to  be  ascribed  lo  this  disposition.  When  a  man  is 
identified  with  a  party,  that  party  is  himself,  and  what 
he  does  for  the  one,  he  does  for  the  other. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  many  of  those  ac- 
tions which  are  performed  on  the  professed  ground  of 
regard  for  the  public  good.  Pure  patriotism  is  a  scarce 
virtue,  and  is  found  but  rarely  in  the  breasts  of  those 
18* 


126 

who  are  loudest  in  their  praises  and  professions  of  it. 
Many  a  noisy  and  self-eulogized  patriot— many  a  zeal- 
ous supporter  of  public  institutions — many  an  active 
reformer  of  popular  errors — many  a  liberal  contributor 
to  humane  or  religious  societies — could  their  motives 
be  exposed,  would  be  found  to  act  from  no  higher  aims 
than  to  get  a  name  for  themselves,  and  to  be  praised 
.by  their  fellow  creatures. 

Some  indulge  this  disposition  under  the  pretext  of 
regard  for  the  truth.  Attaching  an  overweening  im- 
portance to  their  own  opinions,  as  if  they  possessed  the 
attribute  of  infallibility,  overbearing  in  debate,  impatient 
of  contradiction,  determined  to  crush  thfe -opinions  and 
resist  the  influence  of  those  who  are  opposed  to  theii-s, — 
they  quiet  their  conscience,  and  silence  the  voice  of  re- 
monstrance, with  the  plea  that  their  vehemence  is  pure 
zeal  for  the  interests  of  truth.  They  should  be  less 
anxious,  they  say,  if  it  were  their  personal  interest  at 
stake  ;  but  they  have  a  right  to  be  earnest,  yea,  even 
contentious,  in  defence  of  the  faith.  But  they  know 
not  themselves,  or  they  would  discern  that  their  con- 
duct springs  from  a  proud,  imperious,  and  sellish  spirit. 

It  is  time  to  contemplate  the  evil  of  selfishness.  It 
is  a  direct  opposition  to  the  divine  benevolence,  and  is 
contrary  to  the  habitual  temperof  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
"  who  pleased  not  himself"  It  is  the  cause  of  all  sin, 
the  opj)osite  of  all  holiness  and  virtue  ;  is  the  source  of 
innumerable  other  sins,  and  is  placed  by  the  apostle 
as  the  head  and  leader  of  the  eighteen  vices  which  he 
enumerates  as  the  marks  of  perilous  times,  "  Men  shall 
be  lovers  of  themselves."  This  was  the  sin  which  in- 
troduced all  guilt  and  misery  into  the  world  ;  for  the 
first  transgression,  by  which  Adam  fell  from  innocence, 
and  by  which  his  posterity  fell  with  him,  was  an  effort 
to  raise  himself  into  a  state  of  independence ;  by  selfish- 
ness, he  laid  the  world  under  the  burden  of  the  divine 
condemnation.  It  is  a  rejection  of  all  the  claims,  and 
an  opposition  to  all  the  ends  and  interests,  of  society  ; 
for  if  all  persons  were  under  the  influence  of  predomi- 
nant selfishness,  society  could  scarcely  exist ;  let  each 


127 

one  covet  and  grasp  his  own,  to  the  injury  or  neglect  of 
the  rest,  and  the  world  becomes  a  den  of  wild  beasts, 
where  each  ravins  for  his  prey,  and  all  worry  one 
another.  This  disposition  defeats  its  own  end.  God 
has  endowed  us  with  social  affections,  in  the  indulgence 
of  which  there  is  real  pleasure  :  the  exercise  of  kind- 
ness and  the  enjoyment  of  delight  are  inseparable.  "If 
there  be  any  comfort  of  love,"  says  the  apostle  :  by^ 
which  he  implied,  in  the  strongest  manner,  that  there  is 
great  comfort  in  it ;  and,  of  course,  in  proportion  as  we 
extend  the  range  and  multiply  the  objects  of  our  love, 
we  extend  the  range  and  multiply  the  sources  of  our 
happiness.  He  that  loves  only  himself,  has  only  one 
joy  ;  he  that  loves  his  neighbours,  has  many.  To  re- 
joice in  the  happiness  of  others,  is  to  make  it  our  own  ; 
to  produce  it,  is  to  make  it  more  than  our  own.  Lord  * 
Bacon  has  justly  remarked,  that  our  sorrows  are  les- 
sened, and  our  felicities  multiplied,  by  communication. 
Mankind  had  been  labouring  for  ages  under  the  gross- 
est mistake  as  to  happiness,  imagining  that  it  arose  from 
receiving  ;  an  error  which  our  Lord  corrects,  by  say- 
ing, "  That  it  is  more  blessed  to  give,  than  to  receive." 
A  selfish  man  who  accumulates  property,  but  diffuses 
not,  resembles  not  the  perennial  fountain,  sending  forth 
fertilizing  streams  ;  but  the  stagnant  pool,  into  which, 
whatever  flows  remains  there,  and  whatever  remains, 
corrupts  :  miser  is  his  name,  and  miserable  he  is  in  dis- 
position. Selfishness  often  brings  a  terrible  retribution 
in  this  world  :  the  tears  of  its  wretched  subject  fall  un- 
pitied  ;  and  he  finds,  in  the  gloomy  hour  of  his  want  or 
his  wo,  that  he  who  determines  to  be  alone  in  his  ful- 
ness, will  generally  be  left  to  himself  in  his  sorrows : 
and  that  he  who,  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  drives 
every  one  from  him  by  the  unkindness  of  his  disposition, 
win  find,  in  the  season  of  his  adversity,  that  they  are 
too  far  off  to  hear  his  cries  for  assistance. 

This  is  not  an  incurable  temper :  but  it  is  a  disease 
that  requires  immediate  and  diligent  attention.  Where 
it  not  only  exists  but  predominates,  the  spring  of  human 
action  must  be  renewed  by  regeneration,  and  we  must 


126 

have  that  new  heart,  which  is  brought  to  love  Gk)d  su- 
premely, and  our  neighbour  as  ourselves.  We  must 
meditate  often  upon  the  deep  criminality  of  this  disposi- 
tion, and  look  upon  it  in  all  its  deformity,  till  we  hate  it : 
being  careful,  in  order  to  this,  to  strip  it  of  all  the  dis- 
guises which  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart  has  thrown 
over  it.  We  must  abound  in  contemplation  of  the  cha- 
racter of  God,  as  infinite  in  love,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  as 
an  incarnation  of  pure  disinterested  affection.  We  must 
exercise  great  mortification,  labouring  to  the  uttermost 
to  subdue,  and  if  possible  to  eradicate,  this  vile  disposi- 
tion ;  and  repeating  this  again  and  again,  till  we  begin 
to  taste  the  pleasure,  and  to  feel  the  habit,  of  kindness  : 
*at  the  same  time  praying  earnestly  for  the  help  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  to  assist  us  in  the  mighty  work  of  vanquish- 
ing a  selfish  temper. 


ihil 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE    UNSUSPICIOUSNESS    OF    LOVE. 


"  Charity  thinketh  no  evil." 


There  are  two  senses  which  may  be  attached  to 
this  beautiful  description  of  love. 

I.  It  does  not  devise  evil.  What  a  horrible  demon- 
like disposition  has  the  Psalmist  ascribed  to  the  indi- 
vidual who  has  no  fear  of  God  before  his  eyfes  ! — "  He 
hath  left  off  to  be  wise  and  to  do  good  ;  he  deviseth 
mischief  upon  his  bed."  Such  is  the  delineation  given 
by  the  inspired  writer  of  the  character  of  some  wretch- 
ed men  ;  and  the  original  is  often  to  be  found,  They 
are  perpetually  scheming  to  do  injury ;  even  their  hours 
of  rest  are  devoted  to  the  impulses  of  a  wicked  heait, 
and  they  sleep  hot  except  they  have  done  mischief. 
Instead  of  communing  with  God  upon  their  bed,  this  is 
to  commune  with  the  devil,  and  to  hold  nightly  con- 
ference with  him  who  goeth  about  as  a  roaring  lion 
seeking  whom  he  may  devour.  But  without  going  to 
the  extent  of  those  who  live  by  plunder,  extortion,  or 
oppression,  and  who,  as  the  wolves  and  tigers  of  society 
are  ever  prowling  about  for  their  prey, — there  are  many 
who  maintain  a  tolerably  respectable  character,  but  are 
still  far  too  busy  in  devising  evil :  this  may  arise  from 


130 

various  motives,  to  all  of  which  Christian  love  stanch 
firmly  opposed. 

Desire  of  gain  may  lead  them  to  devise  means  by 
which  they  may  injure  a  more  prosperous  neighbour,  a 
more  thriving  tradesman,  than  themselves.     They  can- 
not endure  to  witness  his  success,  and  leave  no  effort 
untried  to  hinder  it.     They  are  inventive  in  the  way  of 
insinuation,  inuendo,  or  explicit  declaration,  to  check 
the  tide  of  his  good  fortune,  and  are  ever  scheming  to 
circumvent  and  injure  him.     Or  they  may  be  moved 
by  envy,  to  devise  means  for  blasting  the  reputation  of  a 
popular  rival,  or  at  least  to  render  him  less  a  favourite 
with  the  public.     Revenge  is  ever  busy  in  laying  plans 
to  injure  its  object ;  it  broods  in  wrathful  silence  over 
the  real  or  supposed  injury,  and  looks  round  on  every 
side  for  the  opportunity  and  the  means  of  full  retaliation. 
ifl  love  of  sporting  icith  the  fear^  of  the  timid  and  the  weak 
has  led  some  to  delight  in  finding  means  for  exciting 
their  alarms  :  they  do  not  desire  to  inflict  pain  so  much 
from  a  malignity  of  disposition  as  from  a  wanton  plea- 
sure in  raising  a  joke.     Such  jests  as  occasion  distress, 
are,  whatever  may  be  pretended  by  their  authors,  a 
kind  of  de^yl's  play,  who  can  never  relax  from  the  work 
of  tormenting,  except  it  be  to  occasion  lighter  pains, 
and  whose  very  sport  is  the  infliction  of  misery.     It  is 
dreadful  that  the  human  intellect  should  ever  be  em- 
ployed in  devising  evil :  and  yet,  passing  by  the  cabinets 
of  statesmen,  where  hostile  and  unprincipled  aggres- 
sions are  so  often  planned  against  a  weaker  state  ;  and 
the  closets  of  monarchs,  where  schemes  which  are  to 
entail  the  horrors  of  war  upon  millions  are  contrived 
without  compunction  ;  and  the  slave-merchant's  cabin, 
where  the  details  are  arranged  for  burning  peaceful  vil- 
lages, and  dragging  into  captivity  their  unoffending  in- 
habitants ;  and  the  robber's  cave,  the  murderer's  cham- 
ber, and  the  swindler's  retreat; — passing  by  these  haunts 
of  demons,  where  the  master-s|)irits  of  mischief  hold 
their  conclave,  and  digest  their  dark  and  horrid  purpo- 
ses ; — what  a  prodigious  movement  of  mind  is  perpetu- 
ally going  on  among  the  subalterns  !     What  a  frightful 


131 

portion  of  every  day's  employment  of  the  mental  and 
bodily  energies,  all  over  the  globe,  is  seen  by  the  eye 
of  Omniscience,  directed  by  the  parent  of  evil,  who  is 
ever  going  about  to  do  evil ;  so  that  a  great  part  of 
mankind  seem  to  have  no  other  prototype  but  the  sCor- 
j^lls  which  John  saw  rising  out  of  the  bottomless  pit, 
armed  both  with  teeth  and  stings  ! 

To  all  these  persons,  and  to  all  this  their  conduct, 
love  is  diametrically  opposed.  It  thinketh  not  evil,  but 
good ;  it  deviseth  to  communicate  pleasure,  not  pain. 
It  shrinks  back  with  instinctive  abhorrence  from  inflict- 
ing a  moment's  suffering,  in  body  or  in  mind.  "  Love 
worketh  no  ill  to  its  neighbour,"  but  employs  all  its 
counsels  and  its  cares  for  his  benefit.  Like  a  good 
spirit,  it  is  ever  opposing  the  advice,  and  counteracting 
the  influence,  of  envy,  revenge,  or  avarice.  It  would 
make  the  miserable  happy,  and  the  happy  still  happier. 
It  retires  into  the  closet,  to  project  schemes  for  blessing 
mankind,  and  then  goes  out  into  the  crowded  regions 
of  want  and  wretchedness,  to  execute  them  :  it  deviseth 
good  on  its  bed,  and  riseth  in  the  morning  to  fulfil  the 
plans  of  mercy  with  which  it  had  sunk  to  rest.  "  Love 
thinketh-  no  evil." 

II.  But  probably  the  apostle  meant,  that  it  does  not 
impute  evil.  Lovely  charity  !  the  farther  we  go,  the 
more  we  discover  thy  charms  :  thy  beauty  is  such, 
that  it  is  seen  the  more,  the  more  closely  it  is  inspect- 
ed ;  and  thy  excellence  such,  that  it  never  ceases  to 
grow  upon  acquaintance.  Thou  art  not  in  haste  to 
criminate  as  if  it  were  thy  delight  to  prove  men  wicked  : 
but  art  willing  to  impute  a  good  motive  to  men's  ac- 
tions, till  a  bad  one  is  clearly  demonstrated. 

It  is  proper,  however,  to  remark  here,  that  love  is 
not  quite  blind :  it  is  not,  as  we  have  already  said,  vir- 
tue in  its  dotage — having  lost  its  power  of  discrimina- 
tion between  good  and  evil ;  nor  is  it  holiness  in  its 
childhood,  which,  with  puerile  simplicity,  believes  every 
thing  that  is  told  it,  and  that  is  imposed  upon  by  every 
pretender.  No  ;  it  is  moral  excellence  in  the  maturity 
of  all  its  faculties — in  the  possession  of  all  its  manly 


132  ' 

strength.  Like  the  judge  upon  the  bench,  penetrating 
yet  not  censorious,  holding  the  balance  with  an  even 
hand,  acting  as  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  rather  leaning 
to  the  side  of  the  accused  than  to  that  of  the  accuser, 
and  holding  him  innocent  till  he  is  proved  to  be  gui^^ 
There  are  some  persons  of  a  peculiarly  suspicious 
temper,  who  look  with  a  distrustful  eye  upon  every 
body  and  upon  every  action.  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
world  were  in  a  conspiracy  against  them,  and  that  eve- 
ry one  who  approached  them  came  with  a  purpose  of 
mischief.  They  invert  the  proper  order  of  things ; 
and  instead  bf  imputing  a  good  motive  till  a  bad  one  is 
proved,  impute  a  bad  one  till  a  good  one  is  made  appa- 
rent ;  and  so  extremely  skeptical  are  they  on  the  sub- 
ject of  moral  evidence,  that  what  comes  with  the  force 
of  demonstration  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  in  the  way  of 
establishing  the  propriety  of  an  action,  scarcely  amounts, 
in  their  view,  to  probability.  Those  who  suspect  eve- 
ry body,  are  generally  to  be  suspected  themselves. 
Their  knowledge  o^  human  nature  has  been  obtained 
at  home,  and  their  fears  in  reference  to  their  neighbours 
are  the  reflected  images  of  their  own  disposition.  But 
without  going  to  this  length,  we  are  all  too  apt  to  impute 
evil  to  others. 

1.  We  are  too  forward  to  suspect  the  piety  of  our 
neighbours,  and  to  ascribe,  if  not  direct  hypocrisy,  yet 
ignorance,  or  presumption,  as  the  ground  of  their  pro- 
fession. Upon  some  very  questionable,  or  imperfect 
evidence — upon  some  casual  expression,  or  some 
doubtful  action — we  pronounce  an  individual  to  be  a 
self-deceiver  or  a  hypocrite.  There  is  far  too  much 
proneness  to  this  in  the  religious  world ;  too  much 
haste  in  excluding  each  other  from  the  body  of  Christ; 
too  much  precipitancy  in  cutting  each  other  off  from " 
the  immunities  of  the  Christian  church.  To  decide 
infallibly  uj)on  character,  is  not  only  the  prerogative  of 
the  Deity,  but  requires  his  attributes.  There  may  be 
some  grains  of  wheat  hid  among  the  chaff,  which  we 
may  be  at  a  loss  to  discover.  We  must  be  careful  how 
we  set  up  our  views  or  our  experience,  as  the  test  of 


133 

character,  so  as  to  condemn  all  who  do  not  come  up 
to  our  standard.  It  is  a  fearful  thing'  to  unchristianize 
any  one,  and  it  should  be  done  only  upon  the  clearest 
evidence  of  his  being  in  an  unconverted  state.  With- 
out being  accused  with  lax  or  latitudinarian  views,  1 
may  observe  that  we  should  make  great  allowance  for 
the  force  of  education,  for  peculiar  habits  acquired  in 
circumstances  different  from  our  own,  and  for  a  phrase- 
ology learnt  among  those  whose  views  are  but  imper- 
fect. To  impute  to  a  professor  of  religion  the  sin  of 
hypocrisy,  or  mere  formality,  and  to  deny  the  reality  of 
his  religion  altogether,  is  too  serious  a  thing  for  such 
short-sighted  creatures  as  we  are,  except  in  cases  which 
are  absolutely  indisputable. 

2.  We  are  too  prone  to  impute  bad  motives  in  refer- 
ence to  particular  actions.  Sometimes,  where  the  action 
is  good,  we  ascribe  it  to  some  sinister  or  selfish  induce- 
ment operating  in  the  mind  of  him  by  whom  it  is  per- 
formed. This  is  not  unfrequently  done  where  we  have 
no  contention  with  the  individual,  and  the  imputation  is 
merely  the  effect  of  envy ;  but  it  is  more  frequently  done 
in  cases  where  we  have  personal  dislike.  When  the 
action  is  of  a  doubtful  nature,  how  apt  are  we  to  lose 
sight  of  all  the  evidence  which  may  be  advanced  in  fa- 
vour of  its  being  done  from  a  good  motive,  and  with  far 
less  probability  decide  that  the  motive  is  bad.  If  we 
are  the  object  of  the  action,  we  too  commonly  conclude 
instantly,  and  almost  against  evidence,  that  a  bad  mo- 
tive dictated  it.  Although  the  circumstance  is  at  worst 
equivocal,  and  admits  of  a  two-fold  interpretation,  we 
promptly  determine  that  an  insult  or  an  injury  was  in- 
tended, when  every  one  but  oui'selves  clearly  discerns 
that  no  such  design  can  be  fairly  imputed.  A  person 
passes  us  in  the  street  without  speaking,  and  we  imme- 
diately believe  that  it  was  an  act  of  intentional  insult — 
forgetting  that  it  is  probable  he  did  not  see  us,  or  was 
so  immersed  in  thought  as  not  to  recognize  us.  A 
general  remark  is  made  in  conversation,  which  we  sup- 
pose with  no  other  evidence  than  its  applicability  to  us, 
was  intended  to  expose  us  before  the  company,  when, 

13 


134 

perhaps  the  individual  who  made  it  had  no  more  refer- 
ence to  us  than  to  a  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe. 
A  thousand  cases  might  be  mentioned,  and  in  which, 
of  two  motives  that  may  be  imputed,  we  choose 
the  evil  one.  If  a  person  has  previously  injured  us, 
we  are  pecuharly  propense  to  this  unchristian  practice 
of  thinking  evil  of  him.  We  can  scarcely  allow  our- 
selves to  believe  that  he  can  do  any  thing  relating  to  us, 
but  from  an  improper  inducement ;  we  suspect  all  his 
words  and  all  his  actions ;  nor  is  the  propensity  less 
strong  in  those  cases  where  we  have  been  the  aggres- 
sors ;  we  then  set  down  everything  done  by  the  hijured 
person  to  the  influence  of  revenge. 

The  evil  of  such  a  disposition  is  manifest.  It  is 
explicitly  and  frequently  prohibited  in  God's  Word.  This 
is  the  censoriousness  forbidden  by  our  Lord,  where  he 
says,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  ;"  and  which 
is  condemned  by  Paul,  where  he  says,  "  Judge  nothing 
before  the  time  until  the  Lord  come,  who  will  both 
bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  and  will 
make  manifest  the  counsels  of  the  hearts.*'  James 
commands  us  "  Not  to  speak  evil  one  of  another ;  for 
he  that  speaketh  evil  of  his  brother,  judgeth  his  bro- 
ther." "  Evil  surmisings"  are  placed  by  the  Apostle 
among  the  sins  which  oppose  the  words  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

It  is  an  invasion  of  the  prerogative  of  Deity,  irho 
alone  can  search  the  heart,  and  read  the  motives  of  the 
breast.  It  is  injurious  to  the  character  of  our  brethren, 
and  disturbs  tlie  peace  of  society.  Half  of  the  broils 
which  arise  in  the  world,  and  of  the  schisms  wliich 
spring  up  in  the  church,  may  be  traced  to  this  wicked 
propensity  of  "  thinking  evil ;"  for  if  men  think  evil,  it 
is  an  easy  step  to  speak  evil,  and  then  to  do  evil :  so 
that  the  origin  of  many  quarrels  will  be  found  in  the 
false  impressions  of  a  suspicious  mind — the  misappre- 
hension of  a  censorious  judgment.  It  is  a  disposition 
vJiich  our  own  observation  and  experience  are  quite  suffi- 
cient, if  we  would  be  guided  by  them,  to  correct.  How 
ofteii>  how  very  often,  have  we  found  ourse^lyep  nnsta- 


135 

ken  in  this  matter !  How  frequently  has  subsequent 
evidence  shown  us  our  error  in  imputing  a  bad  motive 
to  an  action,  which,  at  the  time,  to  say  the  worst  of  it, 
was  only  of  a  doubtful  character  !  We  have  discovered 
that,  to  have  originated  in  accident,  which  we  once 
thought  to  have  been  the  result  of  design ;  and  have 
found  that,  to  have  proceec^.id  from  ignorance,  which 
we  had  hastily  set  down  to  malice.  How  many  times 
have  we  blushed  and  grieved  over  our  precipitancy,  and 
yet,  in  opposition  to  our  experience  and  to  our  resolu- 
tions, we  still  go  on  to  think  evil. 

But  "  love  thinketh  no  evil :"  this  divine  virtue  de- 
lights to  speak  well  and  think  well  of  others  :  she  talks  " 
of  their  good  actions,  and  says  little  or  nothing,  except 
when  necessity  compels  her,  of  their  bad  ones.  She 
holds  her  judgment  in  abeyance  as  to  motives,  till  they 
are  perfectly  apparent.  She  does  not  look  round  for 
evidence  to  prove  an  evil  design,  but  hopes  that  what 
is  doubtful  will,  by  farther  light,  appear  to  be  correct ; 
she  imputes  not  evil,  so  long  as  good  is  probable ;  she 
leans  to  the  side  of  candour  rather  than  to  that  of  se- 
verity ;  she  makes  every  allowance  that  truth  will  per-  . 
mit ;  looks  at  all  the  circumstances  which  can  be  plead- 
ed in  mitigation  ;  suffers  not  her  opinions  to  be  formed 
till  she  has  had  opportunity  to  escape  from  the  mist  of 
passion,  and  to  cool  from  the  wrath  of  contention. 
Love  desires  the  happiness  of  others ;  and  how  can 
she  be  in  haste  to  think  evil  of  them  1 

If  it  be  asked,  Do  all  good  men  act  thus  1  I  again 
reply,  They  act  thus  just  in  proportion  as  they  are  un- 
der the  influence  of  Christian  charity.  The  Apostle 
does  not  say  that  every  man  who  is  possessed  of  cha- 
rity does  so,  but  that  charity  itself  thinketh  no  evil ;  and 
therefore  implies  that  every  good  man  will  act  thus  in 
the  same  degree  in  which  he  submits  to  the  influence  of 
this  virtue.  Divine  grace  !  hasten  thy  universal  reign 
on  earth,  and  put  an  end  to  those  evil  surmisings  by 
which  the  comfort  of  mankind  and  the  fellowship  of  th§ 
saints  are  so  much  disturbed  ! 


•^ 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE    JOY    OF    LOVE. 


"  Charity  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiccth  in  the  truth." 


Keeping  up  the  personification  of  love  as  presented 
by  the  Apostle,  we  may  observe  that  it  has  its  joys  and 
its  sorrows  ;  and  its  smiles  and  its  tears  are  the  expres- 
sions of  good  will — ^the  tokens  of  benevolence.  We 
are  first  told  in  what  it  does  not  take  complacency — "  It 
rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity." 

Sin  is,  in  itself,  an  evil  of  enormous  magnitude.  As 
committed  against  a  Being  whom  we  are  under  infinite 
obligation  to  love,  and  sene,  and  glorify,  it  must  partake 
of  infinite  degrees  of  demerit.  It  is  a  violation  of  that 
law  which,  as  an  emanation  from  the  perfection  of  the 
Deity,  is  itself  perfect,  and  well  deserves  the  eulogium 
pronounced  upon  it  by  the  Apostle,  when  he  declares 
it  to  be  "  holy,  and  just,  and  good."  As  this  is  the  rule 
of  government  to  the  moml  universe,  and  intended  to 
preserve  its  order,  dependence,  and  harmony  ;  sin,  by 
opposing  its  authority,  disturbs  this  order,  breaks  this 
dependence,  and  seeks  to  introduce  the  reign  of  con- 
fusion and  misery.  None,  but  the  infinite  mind,  is  com- 
petent to  calculate  the  mischief  which  is  likely  to  be 
produced  by  a  single  act  of  sin,  if  left  to  itself  without 
a  remedy,  or  without  a  punishment.     We  have  only  to 


137 

see  what  sin  has  done,  to  judge  of  its  most  evil  and  hate- 
ful nature.  All  the  misery  which  either  is  or  ever  will 
be  on  earth,  or  in  hell,  is  the  result  of  sin.  It  is  the 
greatest  evil — the  only  evil  in  the  universe.  It  is  the 
opposite,  and  the  enemy  to  God ;  the  contrast  to  all 
that  is  pure  and  glorious  in  his  divine  attributes,  and  in- 
effably beautiful  perfections ;  and,  as  such,  it  is  that 
which  he  cannot  but  hate  with  a  perfect  hatred.  It  is 
not  merely  the  opposite  of  his  nature,  but  the  opponent 
of  his  government — ^the  rebel  principle  that  disputes 
with  him  for  his  seat  of  majesty  and  the  dominion  of 
the  universe,  saying  to  him,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go, 
and  no  farther ;"  seeking  to  cast  him  down  from  the 
throne  which  he  hath  prepared  in  the  heavens,  and  to 
rise,  with  impious  usurpation,  into  the  holy  place  of  the 
high  and  lofty  One.  Sin  would  thus  stop  the  fountain 
of  life  and  blessedness,  by  ending  the  reign  of  infinite 
beneficence  ;  and  is,  therefore,  the  enemy  of  everything 
that  constitutes  the  felicity  of  the  various  orders  of  ra- 
tional existence.  The  happiness  of  angels  and  arch- 
angels, of  cherubim  and  seraphim,  and  of  the  spirits 
made  perfect  above,  as  well  as  of  those  who  are  renew- 
ed by  the  grace  of  God  on  earth,  arises  from  holiness ; 
separate  and  apart  from  holiness,  there  can  be  no  hap- 
piness for  an  intellectual  being.  Now  sin  is  the  con- 
trary of  holiness,  and  thus  the  enemy  of  happiness. 
How,  then,  can  love  delight  in  iniquity  1  If  it  wills  the 
felicity  of  rational  beings,  it  must  hate  that  which  di- 
rectly resists  and  extinguishes  it. 

And  as  it  cannot  delight  in  sin  in  the  abstract,  so 
neither  can  it  take  pleasure  in  committing  it:  for  who- 
ever commits  it,  in  so  far  approves  of  it,  upholds  its  do- 
minion, extends  its  reign,  diffuses  its  mischief,  and  does 
all  he  can  to  recommend  it.  If  his  transgression  be  a 
common  one,  he  gives  the  patronage  of  his  example  to 
all  of  the  same  kind ;  and  if  it  be  a  new  one,  he  be- 
comes an  inventor  and  propagator  upon  earth  of  a  fresh 
curse  and  tormentor.  That  many  do  delight  in  com- 
mitting iniquity  cannot  be  doubted ;  they  follow  it  with 
greediness,  and  drink  it  in  as  the  thirsty  ox  drinketh  in 
13* 


138 
*    ^,  it 

water.  The  Scripture  speaks  of  the  joys  of  fools,  and 
of  the  pleasures  of  sin.  Horrid  as  is  the  association 
between  sin  and  gratification,  it  certainly  exists.  Some 
men  have  gone  so  far  as  to  be  self-murderers,  but  who 
ever  took  pleasure  in  the  act  of  destroying  themselves "? 
Whoever  drank  the  poison,  as  he  would  wine,  with  a 
merry  heart?  Whoever  dallied  in  sportive  pleasure 
with  the  pistol  or  the  dagger,  or  wound  the  cord  in  jocu- 
larity round  his  throat  before  he  strangled  himself  with 
it  1  Whoever  went  skipping  with  a  light  fantastic  step 
to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  or  the  brink  of  the  river, 
from  which  he  was  about  to  plunge  into  eternity  ?  And 
yet  sinners  do  all  this,  in  reference  to  their  souls.  They 
commit  self-murder,  the  murder  of  their  immortal  spirits, 
to  the  song  of  the  drunkard,  the  noise  of  music,  the 
smile  of  a  harlot,  and  the  laugh  of  the  fool.  They  sin, 
and  not  only  so,  but  delight  in  iniquity.  So  does  not 
charity. 

Nor  can  it  delight  in  the  sins  of  others.  It  cannot  do 
as  fools  do,  "  make  a  mock  of  sin."  It  is  most  horrid 
to  find  pastime  and  sport  in  those  acts  of  transgression 
by  which  men  ruin  their  souls.  Some  laugh  at  the 
reeling  gait,  and  idiot  looks,  and  maniac  gestures,  of  the 
drunkard,  whom,  perhaps,  they  have  first  led  on  to  in- 
toxication, to  atford  them  merriment ;  or  they  are  divert- 
ed by  the  oaths  of  the  swearer,  whose  malice  and  re- 
venge arc  at  work  to  invent  new  formfe  of  profanity ; 
or  they  are  made  merry  by  the  mischief  with  which  the 
persecutors  of  the  righteous  often  oppose  and  interrupt 
the  solemnity  of  worship ;  or  they  attack,  with  raillery 
and  scorn,  the  tender  consciences  of  the  saints,  and 
loudly  applaud  the  wit  which  aims  its  sharpened  arrows 
against  religion.  But  love  weeps  over  sin,  as  that  which 
brings  the  greatest  miseiy.  "  For  sin  is  the  greatest 
•and  highest  infelicity  of  the  creature,  depraves  the  soul 
within  itself,  vitiates  its  powers,  deforms  its  beauty,  ex- 
tinguishes its  light,  corrupts  its  purity,  darkens  its  glory, 
disturbs  its  tranquillity  and  peace,  violates  its  harmoni- 
ous joyful  state  and  order,  and  (destroys  its  very  life.  It 
disaifecta  it  to  God,  severs  it  Iroin.  him,  engages  his  jus- 


139 

tice  and  influences  his  wrath  against  it.  What !  to  re- 
joice in  sin,  that  despites  the  Creator,  and  hath  wrought 
such  tragedies  in  the  creation ! — that  turned  angels  out  of 
heaven,  man  out  of  paradise ! — that  hath  made  the  bless- 
ed God  so  much  a  stranger  to  our  world ;  broken  off 
the  intercourse  in  so  great  a  part,  between  heaven  and 
earth ;  obstructed  the  pleasant  commerce  which  had 
otherwise  probably  been  between  angels  and  men ;  so 
vilely  debased  the  nature  of  man,  and  provoked  the  dis- 
pleasure of  his  Maker  towards  him  ! — that  once  over- 
whelmed the  world  with  a  deluge  of  water,  and  will 
again  ruin  it  by  a  destructive  fire  !  To  rejoice  in  so  hate- 
ful a  thing  as  sin,  is  to  do  that  mad  part,  to  cast  about 
firebrands,  arrows  and  death,  and  say,  "  Am  I  not  in 
sport  1" — it  is  to  be  glad  that  such  an  one  is  turning  a 
man  into  a  devil !  a  reasonable,  immortal  soul,  capable 
of  heaven,  into  a  fiend  of  hell ! — to  be  glad  that  such  a 
soul  is  tearing  itself  off  from  God,  is  blasting  its  own 
eternal  hopes,  and  destroying  all  its  possibilities  of  a 
future  well  being.  Blessed  God  !  how  opposite  a  thing 
is  this  to  charity — the  offspring  of  God  !  The  birth  of 
heaven,  as  it  is  here  below,  among  mortals ;  the  beauty 
and  glory  of  it,  as  it  is  there  above,  in  its  natural  seal. 
The  eternal  bond  of  living  union  among  the  blessed 
spirits  that  inhabit  there,  and  which  would  make  our 
world,  did  it  universally  obtain  here,  another  heaven."* 
No  :  it  is  the  sport  of  devils,  not  of  men  who  feel  the 
influence  of  love,  to  delight  in  sin.  We  justly  condemn 
the  cruelty  of  the  Romans,  in  glutting  their  eyes  with 
the  scenes  of  the  amphitheatre,  where  the  gladiators 
were  torn  in  pieces  by  the  fangs  of  lions  and  tigers  ;  but 
theirs  was  innocent  recreation,  compared  with  that  of 
the  perverted  and  wicked  mind,  which  can  be  gratified 
by  seeing  an  immortal  creature  ruining  and  damning  his 
most  precious  soul.  Go,  laugh  at  the  agonies  of  the 
wretched  man  tortured  upon  the  rack,  and  make  mer- 
ry with  his  distorted  features,  and  strange  and  hideous 
cries  ; — go,  laugh  at  the  convulsive  throes  of  the  epi- 

*  Howe  on  "  Charity  in  Reference  to  other  Men's  Sins." 


140 

leptic ; — go  to  the  field  of  battle,  and  mock  the  groans 
of  the  wounded  and  dying  ; — all  this  is  more  humane  and 
*  merciful  than  delighting  in  sin.  Could  we  look  down 
upon  the  burning  lake,  and  see  there  how  the  miserable 
ghosts  are  tossed  upon  the  billows  of  the  burning  deep, 
and  hear  their  dreadful  exclamations, — "Who  can  dwell 
with  devouring  firel  Who  can  dwell  with  everlasting 
burnings'?" — should  we,  then,  divert  ourselves  with  sinl 
Charity  does  thus  look  upon  their  misery,  so  far  as  her 
imagination  goes,  and  feels  a  cold  horror  and  a  shiver- 
ing dread.  She  mourns  over  sin  wheresoever  she  sees 
it,  and  weeps  for  those  who  never  weep  for  themselves. 
This  is  her  declaration,  as  she  looks  around  upon  the 
sins  of  mankind — "  Rivers  of  waters  run  down  mine 
eyes,  because  they  keep  not  thy  law." 

Love  cannot  delight  in  the  misconduct  of  an  ene^ny  or 
a  rival.  This,  perhaps,  is  the  precise  meaning  of  the 
Apostle,  m  the  expression  we  are  now  illustrating. 
Few  of  us  are  without  some  one  or  more  who  are  con- 
sidered by  us,  or  who  consider  themselves,  in  the  cha- 
racter of  an  opponent,  or  a  competitor ;  and  in  such 
cases  there  is  great  danger  of  our  being  pleased  with  their 
moral  failures.  It  is  not  often  that  any,  except  those 
who  are  more  than  ordinarily  depraved,  will  allow  them- 
selves to  go  so  far  as  to  tempt  an  enemy  to  sin,  in  order 
to  gain  the  advantage  over  him.  Yet  there  are  some 
such,  who  will  lay  snares  for  his  feet,  and  watch  with 
eager  hope  for  his  halting :  and  when  unable  to  accom- 
plish this  by  their  own  personal  exertions,  will  not  scru- 
ple to  engage  accomplices  in  the  work.  Weaker  and 
t'unior  agents,  who  probably  may  know  nothing,  or  know 
)ut  little  of  the  purpose  for  which  they  are  employed, 
may  be  drawn  by  the  master-spirit  of  mischief  into  the 
coafederacy,  and  be  made  the  instrument  of  tempting  an 
immortal  creature  to  sin  against  God,  and  ruin  his  own 
soul.  This  is  the  climax  of  revenge,  the  highest  pitch 
of  wickedness,  and  the  greatest  refinement  of  human 
malice.  It  is  to  extend  the  mischief  of  revenge  to  another 
world ;  to  call  in  the  aid  of  devils,  and  the  quenchless 
fire,  to  supply  the  defects  of  our  ability  to  inflict  misery 


141 

in  proportion  to  our  wishes ;  and  to  perpetuate  our  ill . 
will  through  eternity.  To  tempt  men  to  sin  against  God, 
with  a  view  to  serve  ourselves  by  degrading  them  before 
the  world,  unites  much  of  the  malevolence  of  a  devil, 
with  as  much  of  his  ingenuity. 

But  if  we  cannot  go  to  such  a  length  as  to  tempt  an 
opponent  or  rival  to  sin,  yet,  if  we  feel  a  delight  in  see- 
ing him  fall  by  other  means ;  if  we  indulge  a  secret  com- 
placency in  beholding  him  rendering  himself  vile,  blast-  , 
ing  his  reputation,  destroying  his  popularity,  and  ruin- 
ing his  cause ;  if  we  inwardly  exclaim,  "  Ah  !  so  would 
I  have  it — now  he  has  done  for  himself — it  is  all  over 
with  him — ^this  is  just  what  I  wished  and  wanted  ;" — 
we  delight  in  iniquity.  And,  oh,  how  inexpressibly 
dreadful  to  be  seen  with  a  smiling  countenance,  or  an 
aspect  which,  if  it  relax  not  into  a  smile,  is  sufficiently 
indicative  of  the  joyful  state  of  the  heart,  to  run  with 
eagerness  to  proclaim  the  intelligence  of  the  victory 
we  have  gained  by  that  act  of  another  which  endangers 
his  salvation  :  how  contrary  all  this  to  the  charity  which 
delights  in  happiness ! 

Perhaps  we  only  go  so  far  as  to  he  pleased  that  the 
object  of  our  dislike  has  been  himself  injured  in  a  way  si- 
milar  to  that  in  which  he  has  injured  us.  Although  we 
may  not  allow  ourselves  to  inflict  any  direct  injury  in 
the  way  of  revenge,  nor  to  engage  others  to  do  it  for 
us,  yet  if  we  see  him  ill  treated  by  another  person  and 
rejoice  ;  if  we  exclaim,  "  I  do  not  pity  him,  he  has  de- 
served it  all  for  his  behaviour  to  me,  I  am  glad  he  has 
been  taught  how  to  behave  to  his  neighbour  ;" — this  is 
contrary  to  the  law  of  love — it  is  a  complacency  in  sin. 
Nor  is  the  case  altered,  if  our  joy  be  professedly  felt  on 
account  of  the  consequences  which  the  sin  has  brought 
upon  him.  We  may  sometimes  attempt  to  deceive  our- 
selves, by  the  supposition  that  we  do  not  rejoice  in  the 
iniquity  that  is  committed,  but  only  because  it  has  been 
succeeded  by  those  fruits  which  the  misconduct  has  me- 
rited. We  interpret  it  into  a  proof  that  God  has  taken 
up  the  cause  of  injured  innocence,  and  avenged  us  of 
our  adversary. 


142 

•      There  are  many  circumstances  and  situations  which 
more  particularly  expose  us  to  the  violation  of  this  law 

-of  charity.  In  the  case  of  two  diflferent  denominations 
in  religion,  or  two  congreg-ations  of  the  same  party  in 
a  town,  between  whom  a  misunderstanding  and  schism 
have  been  permitted  to  grow  up  ^nd  to  operate,  there 
is  imminent  danger  of  this  unchristian  spirit.  Alas, 
aleis  !  that  the  bosoms  of  men  should  be  liable  to  such 
sentiments  !  Oh  !  shame,  deep  and  lasting  shame,  upon 
some  professing  Christians,  "  that  such  unhallowed 
emotions  should  ever  be  excited  in  their  bosoms !" 
"  Tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it"  not  in  the  streets  of 
Askelon,  lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines  rejoice — 
lest  the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  triumph."  Let 
it  not  be  known  that  the  bad  passions  of  the  human 
heart  build  their  nests,  like  obscure  birds,  round  the 
altar  of  the  Lord  ;  or,  like  poisonous  weeds,  entwine 
their  baleful  tendrils  round  the  pillars  of  his  house. 
We  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  any  good  man  can  rejoice 
in  the  open  immorality  and  vice  of  an  opponent ;  but 
are  there  not  many,  in  all  large  communities,  who, 
though  of  Israel  in  one  sense,  belong  not  to  it  in  real- 
ity ?  And  where  the  failure  does  not  proceed  to  the 
length  of  a  more  awful  delinquency,  but  consists  merely 
of  some  minor  breaches  of  the  law  of  propriety,  are 
not  even  the  best  of  men  sometimes  exposed  to  the 
temptation  of  rejoicing  over  them,  if  their  cause  is  pro- 
moted by  them  1  The  weaker  party,  especially,  if  they 
have  been  ill  used,  treated  with  pride  and  scorn,  op- 
pression and  cruelty,  are  very  apt  to  take  delight  in  those 
instances  of  misconduct  by  which  their  opponents  have 
brought  upon  themselves  the  prejudice  of  the  public. 

Rival  candidates  for  fame,  or  power,  or  influence, 
whether  in  ecclesiastical  or  secular  affairs,  are  liable  to 
the  sin  of  rejoicing  in  iniquity.  Hard,  indeed,  is  it  for 
Buch  hearts  as  ours  to  repress  all  feelings  of  secret  com- 
placency in  those  acts  of  a  competitor  by  which  he 
nnks,  and  we  are  raised,  in  public  esteem.  That  man 
gives  hinjself  credit  for  more  virtue  than  he  really  poa- 


143 

sesses,  who  imagines  he  should  find  it  easy  to  weep  over 
the  follies  and  miscarriages  of  the  rival  who  contends 
with  him  for  what  it  is  of  much  importance  he  should 
obtain,  or  of  an  enemy  \Yho  has  deeply  injured  him. 
Job  mentions  it  as  a  convincing  proof  of  his  integrity, 
and  a  striking  display  of  good  conduct : — "  If  I  re- 
joiced in  the  destruction  of  him  that  hated  me,  or  lifted 
up  myself  when  evil  found  him."     And  it  was  a  fine 
manifestation  of  the  generosity  of  David,  that  instead 
of  rejoicing  over  those  sins  which,  in  the  conduct  of 
Saul,  brought  on  the  catastrophe  that  elevated  him  to 
the  throne  of  Israel,  he  bewailed  them  with  as  sincere 
and  pungent  grief,  as  he  could  have  done  had  Saul  been 
the  kindest  of  fathers.     That  we  are  in  danger  of  the 
sin  we  are  now  considering,  is  also  evident  from  the  ex- 
hortation of  Solomon — "  Rejoice  not  when  thine  ene- 
my falleth,  and  let  not  thine  heart  be  glad  when  he 
stumbleth."     Charity,  if  it  had  full  possession  of  our 
hearts,  and  entire  sway,  would  not  only  repress  all  out- 
ward exhibitions  of  this  delight,  but  all  inward  emo- 
tions ;  would  make  us  dread  lest  an  opponent  should 
fall  into  sin  ;  would  not  allow  us  to  see  him  go  unwarn- 
ed to  transgression,  but  compel  us  to  admonish  him  of 
his  danger ;  and  would  make  us  cheerfully  forego  the 
greatest  advantage  to  our  cause  or  reputation,  that  we 
might  gain  by  his  misconduct.     This  is  the  holiness  of 
love,  and  the  proof  of  a  genuine  hatred  of.  sin  ;  for  if 
we  mourn  only  over  our  own  sins,  or  the  sins  of  our 
friends,  or  of  our  party,  there  may  be  something  selfish 
in  our  grief  after  all ;  but  to  mourn  over  iniquity,  when, 
though  it  does  harm  to  another,  it  may,  in  some  sense, 
promote  our  cause,  is,  indeed,  to  hate  sin  for  its  own 
sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  him  by  whom  it  is  con- 
demned. 

We  go  on  now  to  show  in  what  love  does  rejoice  : 
"  Charity  rejoiceth  in  the  truth." 

By  the  truth  we  are  not  to  understand  veracity  as 
Opposed  to  falsehood.  The  Apostle  is  not  speaking  of 
this  subject.     The  truth  means  the  doctrine  of  fhe 


144 

Word  of  God.     This  is  a  very  common  way  of  de- 
scribing the  revealed  will  of  God  in  the  Scriptures. 
"  Sanctify  them  by  thy  truth^'    said  our  Lord ;  "  thy 
word  is  truth."     The  truth  itself  is  the  object  of  com- 
placency to  love.     Truth  is  the  most  glorious  thing  in 
the  universe,  next  to  God  and  holiness.     It  has  been 
the  great  object  of  mental  pursuits  since  the  creation 
of  the  world  ;  millions  of  minds  have  travelled  in  quest 
of  it ;  philosophers  profess  to  be  so  enamoured  even 
with  the  very  term,  that  they  have  worshipped  it  as  a 
mere  abstraction,  which,  after  all  they  could  not  under- 
stand.    What  contentions  has  it  originated — to  what 
systems  has  it  given  rise — what  dogmatism  has  it  been 
the  occasion  of!    And  yet,  after  all,  apart  from  revela- 
tion, what  is  it  but  a  name  1     This  gives  it  reality  and 
form  ; — this  tells  us  where  it  is,  what  it  is,  and  how  it  is 
to  be  obtained.     Here  we  learn  that  the  glorious  Gos- 
pel of  the  blessed  God,  and  all  the  doctrines  it  includes 
or  implies,  is  the  truth.     The  question  is  answered, 
proposed  by  Pilate  to  the  illustrious  prisoner  at  his  bar, 
and  the  oracle  of  heaven  has  declared  that  the  Scrip- 
tures are  the  truths.  And  the  truth  is  the  object  of  com- 
placency to  charity ;  the  bright  star,  yea,  the  full-orbed 
sun,  that  enlightens  its  eye,  and  points  out  the   rest- 
ing-place of  its  heart.      And    it  can  rejoice  in  no- 
thing else.     Falsehood  and  error,  and  the  devices  of 
the  human  mind,  are  the  objects  of  its  disgust  and  ab- 
horrence.    It   is  evident,  then,  as  we   have   already 
shown,  that  love  differs  essentially  from  that  vague  kind 
of  charity  which  is  so  much  cried  up  at  present,  both 
without  and  within  the  pale  of  the  Church ;   which 
scorns  to  proceed  upon  the  Scripture  ground  of  the 
truth  and  its  genuine  influence  ;  reviling  as  nan'ow- 
mindedness,  and  an  uncharitable  party  spirit,  all  regard 
to  particular  doctrines ; — but  extends  its  indiscriminate 
embrace,  and  pays  its  idle  and  unmeaning  compliments 
to  all  persons,  of  whatever  denomination  or  persua- 
sion, presuming  that  they  are  all  serious  and  mean  welly 
however  much  they  differ  from  each  other,  or  from  the 


♦     145 

Scripture,  in  sentiment  or  in  practice.  One'  of  the  max- 
ims of  this  spurious  candour,  as  we  have  already  con- 
sidered, is,  that  there  is  no  moral  turpitude  in  mental 
error ;  and  that  everything  is  non-essential  w^hich  does 
not  relate  to  the  interests  of  morality.  How  widely 
this  counterfeit  liberality  differs  from  the  apostolic  char- 
ity, is  evident  from  the  fact  which  we  are  now  consid- 
ering, and  by  which  we  are  told  that  love  delights  in  tlie 
truth.  For  the  truth  it  will  be  zealous,  as  for  an  object 
dearer  than  life  itself ;  to  this  it  will  be  ready  to  set  the 
seal  of  blood,  and  not  resign  or  betray  it  through  fear 
of  the  gloom  of  the  captive's  dungeon,  or  dread  of  the 
martyr's  stake.  This  is  its  joy  in  life — its  support  in 
death  :  this  is  the  dear  companion  of  its  pilgrimage  on 
earth,  and  its  eternal  associate  in  the  felicities  of  heaven. 
But  as  the  truth  is  here  opposed  to  iniquity,  the 
Apostle  especially  intended  to  state  that  holiness  is  the 
object  of  complacency  to  charity.  Holiness  is  the  ra- 
tional and  appropriate  effect  of  the  truth  believed.  No 
man  can  receive  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it,  without  bring- 
ing forth  the  fruits  of  righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus 
Christ  unto  the  glory  of  God.  It  is  the  delight  of  this 
pure  and  heavenly  grace  to  contemplate  holiness  wher- 
ever it  is  to  be  found.  Ascending  to  the  celestial 
world,  it  joins  the  choirs  of  the  chei'ubim,  to  look  upon 
the  spotless  One,  and  with  them  to  give  utterance  to  its 
ecstacies,  in  the  short  but  sublime  anthem,  "  Holy,  holy, 
holy,  is  the  Lord  God  Almighty."  Undismayed  by  the 
roar  of  thunder,  and  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and  the 
voice  of  words ;  by  the  thick  darkness,  and  the  vivid 
lightnings,  and  the  agitation  of  the  quaking  earth ; — it 
ventures  near  the  base  of  Sinai,  and,  for  the  delight 
that  it  has  in  holiness,  rejoices  in  the  law  which  is  the 
rule  of  righteousness.  The  angels  are  pleasant  to  be- 
hold, because  they  are  clad  in  garments  of  unsuUied 
purity ;  and  the  crown  of  glory  which  Adam  wore  be- 
fore his  fall  was  his  innocence ;  and  the  deep  degra- 
dation into  which  he  fell  by  his  apostacy,  was  loss  of 
holiness,  in  which  consisted  the  image  of  God.     The 

14 


146 

ceremonial  law  has  an  excellence  in  the  eye  of  charity, 
because  it  teaches  the  value  of  holiness  in  the  view  of 
God,  and  the  necessity  of  it  for  man.  The  prophetic 
visions  are  all  delighted  in,  because  they  are  distinguish- 
ed by  the  beauties  of  holiness ;  and  the  whole  Gospel 
of  Jesus  is  dear  to  the  heart  of  love,  because  it  is  in- 
tended to  purify  unto  Christ  a  Church,  which  he  will 
present  to  the  Father  without  spot,  wrinkle,  or  blemish. 
Men  are  esteemed  and  loved  on  earth  as  they  have  this 
moral  excellence  enstamped  upon  their  souls ;  and  in 
looking  for  a  heaven  which  shall  satisfy  all  its  desires,  it 
can  think  of  nothing  higher  and  better  than  a  state  of 
sinless  purity. 

So  ardent  and  so  uniform  is  charity's  regard  to  holi- 
ness, that  it  rejoices  in  it  when  it  is  found  in  an  enemy  or 
a  rival.     Yes  ;  if  we  are  under  the  influence  of  this  di- 
vine virtue  as  we  ought  to  be,  we  shall  desire,  and  desire 
very  fervently  too,  that  those  who  have  displeased  or  in- 
jured us  were  better  than  they  are.     We  shall  wish  to 
see  every  speck  of  imperfection  gone  from  their  con- 
duct, and  their  whole  character  standing  out  to  the  ad- 
miration of  the  world,  and  receiving  the  approbation  of 
those  by  whom  they  are  now  condemned.     We  shall  be 
willing  to  do  any  thing  by  which  they  may  conciliate  to 
themselves  the  favour  of  the  alienated  multitude,  and 
also  raise  themselves  to  the  vantage  ground  on  which 
their  misconduct  has  placed  us  above  them.     Thi^  ie 
charity,  to  rejoice  in  those  moral  excellences,  and  gaze 
upon  them  with  gratitude  and  complacency,  which  in- 
vest the  character  of  one  that  opposes  us  with  loveliness 
and  beauty,  and  by  which  his  cause  is  promoted,  in 
some  degree,  to  the  detriment  of  ours.     Men  of  little 
virtue  may  sometimes  join  from  policy  in  those  com- 
mendations of  another's  goodness,  the  justice  of  which 
they  cannot  dispute,  and  the  harmony  of  which  they 
dare  not  disturb  ;  but  it  is  only  the  Christian,  who  is  far 
advanced  in  the  practice  of  all  that  is  diflicult  in  religion, 
who  can  secretly  rejoice,  without  envy  or  jealousy,  in 
those  very  virtues  which  draw  away  the  public  attention 


147 

from  himself,  and  cause  him  and  his  party  to  pass  into 
eclipse  and  to  sink  into  shadow.  "  O  Charity  !  this  is 
thy  work,  and  this  thy  glory ; — a  work  too  rarely  per- 
formed— a  glory  too  rarely  seen — in  this  region  of  self- 
ishness, in  this  world  of  imperfection ;  where,  of  the 
multitudes  that  profess  to  submit  to  thy  sway,  there  are 
still  so  few  who  are  really  governed  by  thy  laws,  and  in- 
spired by  thine  influence. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE    CANDOUR    OF    LOVE. 


"  Charity  beareth  all  things." 


Some  writers  consider  this  verse  as  an  amplification 
©f  the  foregoing  one,  and  explain  it,  in  reference  to  the 
truth,  in  the  following  manner : — "  It  heareth  all  things" 
reported  in  the  truth,  however  opposed  to  the  corrup- 
tion of  human  nature,  and  counts  none  of  them  hard 
sayings  or  unfit  to  be  borne  ;  "  it  believeth  all  things" 
imported  in  the  great  truth,  or  all  the  inferences  which 
the  Apostles  have  deduced  from  it,  as  being  well  affec- 
ted to  the  source  from  whence  they  flow  ;  "  hopeth  for 
all  things"  promised  in  it,  and  "  endureth  all  things ;" 
or  patiently  suffers  all  the  afflictions  that  can  attend  a 
steady  attachment  to  it.  This  gives  a  very  good  sense 
of  the  words,  and  admits  the  full  force  of  the  universal 
expressions.  Yet  it  certainly  agrees  better  with  the 
scope  of  the  Apostle,  to  understand  the  verse  with  refer- 
ence to  the  brethren  as  the  objects  of  it. 

If  we  render  the  first  expression,  and  which  we  are 
now  about  to  consider,  as  our  translators  have  done,  it 
may  signify  our  bearing  one  another's  burdens  and 


149 

weaknesses,  which  is  to  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ :  and  it 
must  be  confessed  this  is  strictly  true  ;  for  whoever  is 
under  the  influence  of  this  principle,  will  possess  a  spirit 
of  tender  sympathy.  In  this  world  we  all  groan,  being 
burdened.  Each  has  his  own  load  of  care,  or  grief,  or 
imperfection.  This  is  not  the  state  where  we  find  per- 
fect rest.  How  wide  is  the  scope,  how  frequent  the  op- 
portunity, how  numerous  the  occasions,  for  sympathy  ! 
And,  who  that  is  possessed  of  benevolence,  can  allow 
himself  to  pass  a  brother  upon  the  road,  labouring  under 
a  heavier  load  than  his  own,  without  offering  to  bear  a 
part  ?  We  are  not  to  be  impertinently  officious  and  in- 
termeddling, nor  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  our  neigh- 
bours with  an  inquisitive  curiosity ;  but  to  inquire  into 
the  cause  which  gives  them  so  much  solicitude  or  so 
much  grief,  is  the  duty  of  those  who  are  the  witnesses  of 
their  careworn  countenance  and  downcast  look.  What 
an  unfeeling  heart  must  that  man  have,  who  can  see  the 
very  form  of  care  and  sorrow  before  him,  and  never 
kindly  ask  the  reason  of  its  existence  1  It  is  but  little  that 
sympathy  can  do  for  the  sufferer,  but  that  little  should 
be  most  cheerfully  afforded.  To  be  unnoticed  and  un- 
pitied  in  our  griefs,  adds  greatly  to  their  weight.  For 
what  purpose  are  Christians  collected  into  churches  1 
not  merely  to  eat  the  Lord's  Supper  together  :  this  could 
be  done  without  any  such  distinct  recognition  of  a  mu- 
tual relationship,  as  that  which  takes  place  in  the  fellow- 
ship of  believers.  The  end  and  design  of  this  bond  is, 
that  being  united  as  one  body,  the  members  might  che- 
rish a  general  sympathy  for  each  other,  and  exercise 
their  benevolence  in  the  way  of  mutual  assistance.  The 
rich,  by  their  munificence,  should  help  their  poorer 
brethren  to  bear  the  burden  of  poverty ;  the  strong 
should  aid  the  weak  to  bear  the  burden  of  their  fears 
and  apprehensions ;  those  who  are  in  health  and  ease 
should,  by  seasonable  visits,  and  soothing  words,  and 
kind  offices,  bear  the  burdens  of  the  sick;  counsel 
should  always  be  given,  when  it  is  sought  by  those  who 
are  in  difficulty ;  and  a  disposition  should  pervade  the 


m 

whole  body,  to  render  its  varied  resources,  talents,  and 
energies,  available  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole. 

But  though  this  also  gives  a  beautiful  meaning,  and 
enjoins  a  necessary  duty,  it  is  not  the  right  view  of  the 
passage.  The  word  translated  "  beareth"  all  things, 
signifies  also,  "  to  contain,  to  conceal,  to  cover."  The 
idea  of  "  bearing"  is  parallel  in  meaning  with  that  of 
**  enduring,"  of  which  the  Apostle  speaks  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  vei'se ;  and  it  is  not  probable  that  it  was  his 
mtention  to  express  the  same  thought  twice.  Adopting 
*'  concealment"  as  the  sentiment  intended  to  be  ex- 
pressed and  the  failings  of  others  as  the  object  to  which 
it  refers,  I  shall  go  on  to  show  in  what  way  it  is  prac- 
tised. 

To  do  this  with  still  greater  effect,  we  shall  exhibit 
a  general  view  of  those  sins  to  which  the  view  of  Chris- 
tian charity  stands  exposed ;  and  these  are,  slander^  de- 
traction, and  rash  judging,  or  censoriov,sness. 

Perhaps  there  are  no  sins  which  are  more  frequently 
alluded  to,  or  more  severely  rebuked,  in  Scripture,  than 
those  of  the  tongue ;  and  for  this  reason, — because  there 
are  none  to  which  we  are  so  frequently  tempted — none 
we  are  so  prone  to  indulge,  or  so  bold  to  excuse — none 
which  are  so  fruitful  of  disorder  and  discomfort  to  so- 
ciety. Besides  swearing,  falsehood,  obscenity,  blasphe- 
my,— the  Scripture  speaks  of  bearing  false  witness, 
railing,  tale-bearing,  whispering,  backbiting,  slander, 
and  reproach : — a  dismal  enumeration  of  vices  belong- 
ing to  that  member  which  was  intended  to  be  the  glory 
of  our  frame.  By  slander,  we  understand  the  circu- 
lation of  a  false  report  with  the  intention  of  injuring  a 
neighbour's  reputation.  Its  most  vicious  excess  is  the 
invention  and  construction  of  a  story  which  is  absolutely 
false  from  beginning  to  end.  Its  next  lower  grade, 
though  little  inferior  in  criminality,  is  to  become  the  pro- 
pagator of  the  tale,  knowing  it  to  be  false.  "  This," 
Bays  Barrow,  "  is  to  become  the  hucksters  of  counter- 
feit wares,  or  factors  in  this  vile  trade.  There  is  no 
coiner  who  hath  not  emissaries  and  accomplices  ready 
to  take  from  his  hand  and  put  off  his  money ;  and  such 

\ 


slanderers  at  second  hand  are  scarcely  less  guilty  than 
the  first  authors.     He  that  breweth  lies  may  have  more 
wit  and  skill,  but  the  broacher  showeth  the  like  malice 
and  wickedness.     In  this  there  is  no  great  difference 
between  the  great  devil  that  frameth  scandalous  reports, 
and  the  little  imps  that  run  about  and  disperse  them." 
The  next  operation  of  slander  is  to  receive  and  spread, 
vdthout  examining  into  the  truth  of  them,  false  and  inju- 
rious reports.     It  is  a  part  of  a  good  man's  character, 
that  "  He  taketh  not  up  a  reproach  against  his  neigh- 
bour ;"  i.  e.  he  does  not  easily  entertain  it,  much  less 
propagate  it ;  he  does  not  receive  it  but  upon  the  most 
convincing  evidence :  but  slander  founds  reproachful 
tales  upon  conjecture  or  suspicion,  and  raises  an  inju- 
rious representation  upon  a  suppositious  foundation. 
Sometimes  it  withers  the  reputation  of  a  neighbour  by 
rash  speaking,  or  vehemently  affirming  things  which  it 
has  no  reason  to  believe,  and  no  motive  for  affirmii^, 
but  the  hope  of  exciting  ill  will.     Slander  is  sinful,  be- 
cause forbidden  in  every  part  of  Scripture  ;  cruel,  be- 
cause it  is  robbing  our  neighbour  of  that  which  is  dearer 
to  him  than  fife  ;  and  foolish,  because  it  subjects  the 
calumniator  himself  to  all  kinds  of  inconvenience, — for 
it  not  only  exposes  him  to  the  wrath  of  God,  the  loss  of 
his  soul,  and  the  miseries  of  hell  in  the  world  to  come, 
but  it  makes  him  odious  in  the  present  life,  causes  him 
to  be  shunned  and  discredited,  arms  his  conscience 
against  his  own  peace,  brings  upon  himself  the  most  re- 
proachful accusations,  and  not  unfrequently  the  ven- 
geance of  that  public  justice,  which  is  rightly  appointed 
to  be  the  guardian  not  only  of  property  and  life,  but  of 
reputation  also. 

Detraction,  or  backbiting,  differs  a  little  from  slan- 
der, though,  in  its  general  nature  and  constitution,  it 
closely  resembles  it.  Slander  involveth  an  imputation 
of  falsehood ;  but  detraction  may  clothe  itself  with 
truth  :  it  is  sweetened  poison,  served  from  a  golden  cup 
by  the  hand  of  hypocrisy.  A  detractor's  aim  is  the 
same  as  the  slanderer's — to  injure  the  reputation  of  an- 
other ;  but  he  avails  himself  of  means  that  are  a  little 


153 

different.  He  represents  persons  and  actions  under  the 
most  disadvantageous  circumstances  he  can, — setting 
forth  those  which  may  make  them  appear  guilty  or  ri- 
diculous, and  throwing  into  the  shade  such  as  are  com- 
mendable. "  When  he  cannot  deny  the  metal  to  be 
good  and  the  stamp  to  be  true,  he  clippeth  it,  and  so  re- 
jecteth  it  from  being  current :  he  misconstrues  doubt- 
ful actions  unfavourably,  and  throws  over  the  very  vir- 
tues of  his  neighbours  the  name  of  faults, — calling  the 
sober  sour,  the  conscientious  morose,  the  d«vout  super- 
stitious, the  frugal  sordid,  the  cheerful  frivolous,  and  the 
reserved  crafty  :  he  diminishes  from  the  excellence  of 
good  actions,  by  showing  how  much  better  they  might 
have  been  done  ;  and  attempts  to  destroy  all  confidence 
in  long-established  character,  and  all  respect  for  it,  by 
pitching  on  some  single  act  of  imprudence,  and  ex- 
panding it  into  a  magnitude,  and  darkening  it  into  a 
shadow,  which  truth  and  justice  forbid.  Such  is  the 
backbiter ;  whose  crime  is  compounded  of  the  ingredi- 
ents of  ill  humour,  pride,  selfishness,  envy,  malice, 
falsehood,  cowardice,  and  folly.  Backbiting  must  be 
peculiarly  hateful  to  God :  "  He  is  the  God  of  truth, 
and  therefore  detesteth  lying,  of  which  detraction  ever 
hath  a  spice  :  He  is  the  God  of  justice,  and  therefore 
doth  especially  abhor  wronging  the  best  persons  and 
actions :  He  is  the  God  of  love,  and  therefore  cannot 
but  loath  this  capital  violation  of  charity  :  He  is  jealous 
of  his  glory,  and  therefore  cannot  endure  it  to  be  abus- 
ed by  slurring  his  good  gifts  and  graces :  He  cannot 
but  hate  the  offence  which  approacheth  to  that  most 
heinous  and  unpardonable  sin,  that  consisteth  in  defam- 
ing the  excellent  works  performed  by  divine  power  ami 
goodness,  ascribing  them  to  bad  -causes." 

The  same  writer,  in  speaking  of  the  mischief  of  de- 
traction, as  discouraging  others  from  the  performance 
of  that  goodness  which  is  thus  vilified  and  defamed,  has 
the  following  beautiful  remarks.  Many,  seeing  the  best 
men  thus  disparaged,  and  the  best  actions  vilified,  are 
disheartened  and  deterred  from  practising  virtue,  espe- 
cially in  a  conspicuous  and  eminent  degree :—"  Wby»," 


will  many  a  man  say,  "  shall  I  be  strictly  good,  seeing 
goodness  is  so  liable  to  be  misused  1  Had  I  not  better 
be  contented  with  a  mediocrity  and  obscurity  of  good- 
ness, than  by  a  glaring  lustre  thereof  to  draw  the  envi- 
ous eye  and  kindle  raging  obloquy  upon  me  1"  And 
when  the  credit  of  virtue  is  blasted  in  its  practices,  many 
will  be  diverted  from  it.  So  will  it  grow  out  of  request, 
and  the  world  be  corrupted  by  these  agents  of  the  Evil 
One.  It  were  adviseable,  upon  this  consideration,  not 
to  seem  ever  to  detract,  even  not  then  when  we  are  as- 
sured that,  by  speaking  ill,  we  shall  not  really  do  it ;  if 
we  should  discover  any  man  to  seem  worthy,  or  to  be 
so  reputed,  whom  yet  we  discern,  by  standing  in  a 
nearer  light,  not  to  be  truly  such,  yet  wisdom  would 
commonly  dictate,  and  goodness  dispose,  not  to  mar  his 
repute.  If  we  should  observe,  without  danger  of  mis- 
take, any  plausible  action  to  be  performed  out  of  bad 
inclinations,  principles,  or  designs,  yet  ordinarily  in  dis- 
cretion and  honesty,  we  should  let  it  pass  with  such 
commendation  as  its  appearance  may  procure,  rather 
than  slur  it  by  venting  our  disadvantageous  apprehen- 
sions about  it ;  for  it  is  no  great  harm  that  any  man 
should  enjoy  undeserved  commendation;  our  granting 
its  claims  is  but  being  over  just,  which,  if  it  ever  be  a 
fault,  can  hardly  be  so  in  this  case,  wherein  we  do  not 
expend  any  cost  or  suffer  any  damage  ;  but  it  may  do 
mischief  to  blemish  any  appearance  of  virtue  :  it  may 
be  a  wrong  thereto,  to  deface  its  very  image  ;  the  very 
disclosing  of  hypocrisy  doth  inflict  a  wound  on  good- 
ness, and  exposeth  it  to  scandal,  for  bad  men  will  then 
be  prone  to  infer  that  all  virtue  doth  proceed  from  the 
like  bad  principles  ;  so  the  disgrace  cast  on  that  which  is 
spurious,  will  redound  to  the  prejudice  of  that  which  is 
most  genuine.  And  if  it  be  good  to  forbear  detracting 
from  that  which  is  certainly  false,  much  more  so  in  re- 
gard to  that  which  is  possibly  true  ;  and  far  more  still  is 
it  go  in  respect  to  that  which  is  clear  and  sure. 

Censoriousness  is  another  sin  of  the  same  class—" 
another  child  of  the  same  family :  varying,  however, 
from  those  we  have  already  considered  by  acting  not  SQ 


154 

much  in  the  way  of  reporting  faults  as  in  condemning 
them.  It  is  different  from  slander,  inasmuch  as  it  as- 
sumes, that  what  it  condemns  is  true ;  and  from  detrac- 
tion, inasmuch  as  it  is  not  exercised  with  an  intention  to 
injure  another  in  public  estimation,  but  only  to  reprove 
him  for  what  is  wrong.  It  assumes  the"  character,  not 
of  a  witness,  but  of  a  judge :  hence  the  injunction, 
"  Judge  not."  Censoriousness,  then,  means  a  disposi- 
tion to  scrutinize  men's  motives — to  pass  sentence  upon 
their  conduct — ^to  reproach  their  faults, — accompanied 
by  an  unwillingness  to  make  all  reasonable  allowances 
for  their  mistakes,  and  a  tendency  to  the  side  of  severity 
rather  than  to  that  of  leniency.  We  are  not  to  suppose 
that  all  inspection  and  condemnation  of  the  conduct  of 
others  is  sin  ;  nor  that  all  reproof  of  offenders  is  a  viola- 
tion of  the  law  of  charity ;  nor  that  we  are  to  think  well 
of  our  neighbours,  in  opposition  to  the  plainest  evi- 
dence ;  nor  that  we  are  to  entertain  such  a  credulous 
opinion  of  the  excellence  of  mankind,  as  unsuspecting- 
ly to  confide  in  every  man's  pretences :  but  what  we 
condemn  is  needlessly  inquiring  into  the  conduct  and 
motives  of  other  men  ;  examining  and  arraigning  them 
at  our  bar,  when  we  stand  in  no  relation  to  them  that 
requires  such  a  scrutiny ;  delivering  our  opinion  when 
it  is  not  called  for ;  pronouncing  sentence  with  undue 
severity,  and  heaping  the  heaviest  degree  of  reproach 
upon  an  offender  which  we  can  find  language  to 
express. 

"  The  world  is  become  so  extremely  critical  and 
censorious,  that  in  many  places  the  chief  employment 
of  men,  and  the  main  body  of  conversation,  is,  if  we 
mark  it,  taken  up  in  judging;  every  company  is  a  court 
of  justice,  every  seat  becometh  a  tribunal,  at  every  ta- 
ble standeth  a  bar,  whereunto  all  men  are  cited — 
whereat  every  man,  as  it  happeneth,  is  arraigned  and 
sentenced ;  no  sublimity  or  sacredness  of  dignity — no 
integrity  or  innocence  of  life-^no  prudence  or  circum- 
spection of  demeanour,— can  exempt  any  person  from 
it.  Not  one  escapes  being  taxed  under  some  odious 
name  or  scandalous  character  or  others    Not  only  the 


155 

outward  actions  and  visible  practices  of  men  are  judged^ 
but  their  retired  sentiments  are  brought  under  review — 
their  inward  dispositions  have  a  verdict  passed  upon 
them — their  final  states  are  determined.   Whole  bodies 
of  men  are  thus  judged  at  once  ;  and  nothing  is  it  in 
one  breath  to  damn  whole  churches — at  one  push,  to 
throw  down  whole  nations  into  the  bottomless  pit :  yea, 
God  himself  is  hardly  spared,  his  providence  coming 
under  the  bol(J  obloquy  of  those,  who, — as  the  Psalmist 
speaketh  of  some  in  his  time,  whose  race  does  yet  sur- 
vive,— speak  loftily,  and  set  their  mouth  against  the 
heavens,"     Barrow,  in  order  to  censure  this  temper, 
gives  the  following  qualifications  of  a  judge.     He  should 
be  appointed  by  competent  authority,  and  not  intrude  him- 
self into  office.     To  how  many  censors  may  we  say, 
"  Who  made  thee  a  judge  1"     He  should  be  free  from  aU 
prejudice  and  partiality.     Is  this  the  case  with  the  cen- 
sorious 1     He  should  never  proceed  to  judgment,  without  a 
careful  examination  of  the  case,  so  as  well  to  understand  il. 
Let  the  private  self-appointed  judges  remember  this, 
and  act  upon  the  principle  of  Solomon — "  He  that 
answereth  a  matter  before  he  heareth  it,  it  is  a  folly  and 
a  shame  to  him."     He  should  never  pronounce  sentence 
but  upon  good  grounds,  after  certain  proof  and  full  con- 
viction.    If  this  rule  were  observed,  how  many  cen- 
sures would  be  prevented.     He  will  not  meddle  with 
causes  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  his  court.     If  this  were 
recollected  and  acted  upon,  the  voice  of  unlawful  cen- 
sure would  die  away  in  silence  ;  for  who  are  we,  that 
we  should  try  the  hearts  and  search  the  reins  of  men, 
or  judge  another's  servant  1    He  never  proceeds  against 
any  man,  without  citing  him  to  appear,  either  in  person  or 
by  his  representative,  and  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  de- 
fend himself     When  any  one  is  censured  in  company, 
there  should  always  be  found  some  generous  mind,  who 
would  propose  that  the  accused  should  be  sent  for,  and 
the  trial  put  off  till  he  appeared.     He  must  pronounce, 
not  according  to  private  fancy,  but  to  public  and  established 
laws.     Is  this  the  rule  of  the  censorious"?     Is  it  not 
rather  their  custom  to  make  their  own  private  opinion 


15$ 

the  law?  He  should  be  a  person  of  great  knoicledge  and 
ability.  What  is  the  usual  character  of  the  private  cen- 
sors of  human  conduct  1  are  they  not  persons  of  great 
ignorance  and  few  ideas,  who,  for  want  of  something 
else  to  say,  or  ability  to  say  it,  talk  of  their  neighbours' 
faults, — a  topic  on  which  a  child  or  a  fool  can  be  fluent  1 
He  is  not  an  accuser ;  and  moreover  is,  by  virtue  of  his 
office,  counsel  for  the  accused.  On  the  contrary,  the 
censorious  are,  generally,  not  only  judges.but  accusers, 
and  counsel  against  the  culprits  whom  they  have  brought 
to  their  bar.  He  should  lean,  as  far  as  the  public  good 
will  allow  to  the  side  of  mercy :  but  mercy  has  no  place 
in  the  bosom  of  the  censorious,  and  their  very  justice  is 
cruelty  and  oppression.  He  must  himself  be  innocent. 
Why  is  there  not  a  voice  heard  in  every  company,  when 
the  prisoner  is  arraigned,  and  the  process  of  judgment 
begins,  saying  "  He  that  is  without  sin,  let  him  cast  the 
first  stone  1"  He  proceeds  with  solemnity  and  grief,  and 
slowness,  to  pass  the  sentence.  But  what  indecent  haste 
and  levity,  not  excepting  joy,  do  we  witness  in  those 
who  are  given  to  the  practice  of  censuring  their  neigh- 
bours' conduct.* 

Now,  to  all  these  sinful  practices  Christian  love  stands 
directly  opposed.  It  is  a  long  time  before  it  allows  itself 
to  perceive  the  faults  of  others.  Not  more  quick  is  instinct 
in  the  bird,  or  beast,  or  fish,  of  prey,  to  discover  its  vic- 
tim, than  the  detractor  and  the  censorious  are  to  des- 
cry imperfections  as  soon  as  they  appear  in  the  conduct 
of  those  around  them.  Their  vision  is  quite  telescopic, 
to  see  objects  of  this  kind  at  a  distance,  and  they  have 
a  miscroscopic  power  of  inspection,  to  examine  those 
that  are  small  and  near :  and,  when  looking  at  faults, 
they  always  employ  the  highest  magnifying  power  which 
their  instrument  admits  of ;  while  for  the  purpose  of 
looking  at  those  spots,  which  to  the  naked  eye  would 
be  lost  amidst  the  surrounding  glory,  they  carry  a  dark- 
ened glass.  They  do  not  want  to  see  virtues :  no;  all 
that  is  fair,  and  good,  and  lovely,  is  passed  over  in  quest 

♦  Dr.  Barrow's  Sermons. 


157 

of  deformity  and  evil.  But  all  this  is  utterly  abhorrent 
to  the  nature  of  love  ;  which,  intent  upon  the  well-be- 
ing of  mankind,  and  anxious  for  their  happiness,  is  ever 
looking  out  for  the  signs  and  the  symptoms  which  be- 
token that  the  sum  of  human  felicity  is  perpetually  in- 
creasing. The  eye  of  the  Christian  philanthropist  is  so 
busily  employed  in  searching  for  excellence,  and  so 
fixed  and  so  ravished  by  it  when  it  is  found,  that  it  is 
sure  to  pass  over  many  things  of  a  contrary  nature,  as 
not  included  in  the  object  of  its  inquiry ;  just  as  he 
who  is  searching  for  gems  is  likely  to  pass  by  many 
common  stones  unheeded  ;  or  as  he  who  is  looking  for 
a  particular  star  or  constellation  in  the  heavens,  is  not 
likely  to  see  the  tapers  which  are  near  him  upon  earth. 
Good  men  are  his  delight ;  and  to  come  at  these,  very 
many  of  the  evil  generation  are  passed  by  :  and  there 
is  also  a  singular  power  of  abstraction  in  his  benevo- 
lence, to  separate,  when  looking  at  a  mixed  character, 
the  good  from  the  evil,  and,  losing  sight  of  the  latter, 
to  concentrate  its  observation  in  the  former. 

And  when  love  is  obliged  to  admit  the  existence  of 
imperfections,  it  diminishes  as  much  as  possible  their  mag- 
nitude, and  hides  them  as  much  as  is  lawful  from  its  own 
notice.  It  takes  no  delight  in  looking  at  them,  finds  no 
pleasure  in  keeping  them  before  its  attention,  and  por- 
ing into  them ;  but  turns  away  from  them,  as  an  un 
pleasant  object,  as  a  deUcate  sense  would  from  what- 
ever is  offensive.  If  we  find  an  affinity  between  our 
thoughts  and  the  sins  of  which  we  are  the  spectators, 
it  is  a  plain  proof  that  our  benevolence  is  of  a  very 
doubtful  nature,  or  in  a  feeble  state  ;  on  the  contrary, 
if  we  involuntarily  turn  away  our  eyes  from  beholding 
evil,  and  are  conscious  to  ourselves  of  a  strong  revul- 
sion, and  an  acute  distress,  when  we  cannot  altogether 
retire  from  the  view  of  it,  we  possess  an  evidence  that 
we  know  much  of  that  virtue  which  covereth  all  things. 
If  we  are  properly,  as  we  ought  to  be,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  love,  we  shall  make  all  reasonable  allowances 
for  those  things  which  are  wrong  in  the  conduct  of  our 
neighbour ;  we  shall,  as  we  have  already  considered, 
15 


158 

not  be  forward  to  suspect  evil ;  but  shall  do  everything 
to  lessen  the  heinousness  of  the  action.  This  is  what 
is  meant,  when  it  is  said  that  "  Charity  covers  a  multi- 
tude of  sins.  Hatred  stirreth  up  strifes,  but  love  cover- 
eth  all  sins." 

It  is  the  wish  and  the  act  of  love,  to  conceal  from  the 
public  all  the  faults,  which  the  good  of  the  offender,  and 
the  ends  of  public  justice,  do  not  require  to  be  disclos- 
ed. There  are  cases,  in  which  to  conceal  offences, 
whatever  kindness  it  may  be  to  one,  would  be  unkind- 
ness  to  many.  If  a  person  living  in  sm,  has  so  far  im- 
posed upon  a  minister,  as  to  induce  him  to  propose  him 
for  admission  to  the  fellowship  of  the  church,  it  is  the 
bounden  duty  of  any  individual,  who  knows  the  real 
character  of  the  candidate,  to  make  it  known  to  the 
pastor ;  and  the  same  disclosure  should  be  made  in  re- 
ference to  a  person  already  in  communion,  who  is  ac- 
tually living  in  sin :  concealment  in  these  cases  is  an  in- 
jury to  the  whole  body  of  Christians.  If  a  person  is 
likely  to  be  injured  in  his  temporal  concerns,  by  repos- 
ing confidence  in  one  who  is  utterly  unworthy  of  it,  it 
is  the  duty  of  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  snare 
to  warn  the  destined  victim  of  his  danger.  If  any  are 
so  far  regardless  of  the  peace  of  society  and  the  laws 
of  the  country,  as  to  be  engaged  in  great  crimes  against 
both,  concealment  on  the  part  of  those  who  are  aware 
of  the  existence  of  such  practices,  is  a  participation  in 
the  crime.  As  our  love  is  to  be  universal,  as  well  as 
particular,  it  must  never  be  exercised  towards  indivi- 
duals in  a  way  that  is  really  opposed  to  the  interests  of 
the  community. 

But  where  no  other  interest  is  concerned — where  no 
claims  demand  a  disclosure — where  no  injury  is  done 
by  concealment,  and  no  benefit  is  conferred  by  giving 
publicity  to  a  fault, — there  our  duty  is  to  cover  it  over 
with  the  veil  of  secrecy,  and  maintain  an  unbroken  si- 
lence upon  the  subject. 

Instead  of  this  friendly  and  amiable  reserve,  how 
different  is  the  way  in  which  many  act !  No  sooner 
have  they  heafd  of  the  commission  of  a  fault,  than  they 


159 

set  off  with  the  intelligence,  as  glad  as  if  .they  bore  the 
tidings  of  a  victory,  proclaiming  the  melancholy  fact 
with  strange  delight  in  every  company,  and  almost  to 
every  individual  they  meet ;  and  as  there  is  a  greedy 
appetite  in  some  persons  for  scandal,  they  find  many 
ears  as  open  to  listen  to  the  tale,  as  their  lips  are  to  tell 
it :  or,  perhaps,  they  relate  the  matter  as  a  secret,  ex- 
torting a  promise  from  those  to  whom  they  communi- 
cate it  that  they  will  never  mention  it  again.  But  if  it 
be  not  proper  to  publish  it  to  the  world,  why  do  they 
speak  of  it  at  all  ?  If  it  be  proper  for  publicity,  why 
lock  up  others  in  silence  1  Sometimes  the  telling  faults 
in  secret  is  a  pitiable  kind  of  weakness,  an  utter  impos- 
sibility of  keeping  anything  in  the  mind,  accompanied 
by  an  intention  of  pubUshing  it  only  to  a  single  person  ; 
but  not  unfrequently  it  is  a  wish  to  have  the  gratifica- 
tion of  being  the  first  to  communicate  the  report  to  a 
large  number  of  persons  :  each  is  made  to  promise  that 
he  will  not  disclose  it,  that  the  original  reporter  may  not 
be  anticipated  as  he  pursues  his  round,  and  thus  have 
his  delight  diminished,  in  being  everywhere  the  first  to 
tell  the  bad  news. 

Then  there  are  some,  who  publish  the  faults  of  others 
under  the  hypocritical  pretence  of  lamenting  over  them,  and 
producing  in  others  a  caution  against  the  same  thing.  You 
will  see  them  in  company  putting  on  a  grave  counte- 
nance, and  hear  them  asking  the  person  who  sits  near 
them,  but  with  a  voice  loud  enough  to  reach  every 
corner  of  the  room,  whether  he  has  heard  the  report 
of  Mr.  Such-an-one's  conduct ;  and  when  every  ear  is 
caught,  every  tongue  silent,  and  every  eye  fixed,  he  will 
proceed,  in  a  strain  of  deep  lamentation  and  tender 
commiseration,  to  bewail  the  misconduct  of  the  delin- 
quent,— seeisoning  the  narration  of  the  offence,  as  he 
goes  through  all  its  circumstances  and  all  its  aggrava- 
tions, with  many  expressions  of  pity  for  the  offender, 
and  many  words  of  caution  to  the  company.  Thus, 
under  the  hypocritical  guise  of  pity  and  the  abhorrence 
of  sin,  has  he  indulged  in  this  mischievous  yet  too  com- 
mon propensity,  to  publish  the  Mog^s  qf  some  erring 


160 

brother.  Has  he  mentioned  the  subject  to  the  indivi- 
dual himself? ,  If  not,  and  he  has  withheld  this  mode  of 
expressing  his  pity,  what  avails  his  public  commisera- 
tion 1  What  possible  sympathy  with  the  offender  can 
it  be,  to  placard  him  in  public,  and  blazon  his  faults  in 
company'? 

Some  there  are,  who  suppose  that  there  is  little  harm 
in  talking,  in  their  own  particular  circles,  of  the  failings  of 
their  neighbours  :  they  would  not  speak  of  these  things 
before  strangers,  or  society  in  general ;  but  they  feel  no 
scruple  in  making  them  matter  of  conversation  among 
their  select  friends.  But  these  friends  may  not  all  be 
prudent ;  and  if  it  be  not  desirable  that  the  fact  should 
not  be  known  without  the  circle,  the  best  way  is,  that 
it  be  not  known  within  it.  Where  there  is  no  benefit 
likely  to  be  obtained  by  publicity,  it  is  best,  in  reference 
to  character,  to  lock  up  the  secret  in  our  own  mind, 
and  literally  to  observe  the  injunction  of  the  prophet — 
"  Trust  ye  not  in  a  friend,  put  ye  not  confidence  in  a 
guide  ;  keep  the  doors  of  thy  mouth  from  her  that  lieth 
in  thy  bosom." 

Love,  not  only  will  not  originate,  but  will  not  help  to 
circulate,  an  evil  report.  When  the  tale  comes  to  her, 
there,  at  least  in  that  direction,  it  stops.  There  are 
gossips,  who,  though  they  would  shudder  at  slander, 
and,  perhaps,  would  not  be  the  first  to  give  publicity  to 
an  idle  report  of  another,  yet  would  feel  no  scruple  in 
telling  what  many  already  know.  "  It  is  no  secret," 
they  say,  "  else  I  would  not  mention  it."  But  we 
should  not  do  even  this  :  we  should  neither  invent,  nor 
originate,  nor  propagate,  an  evil  report.  While  every 
tongue  is  voluble  in  spreading  bad  tidings,  charity  will 
be  silent :  while  all  seem  anxions«to  enjoy  communion 
in  backbiting  and  detraction,  and  to  sip  the  cup  of  de- 
traction as  it  passes  round  the  company,  she  says  to  the 
person  who  has  told  the  story,  "  I  have  no  ears  for  de- 
famation, or  even  for  the  tale  of  another's  faults.  Go, 
and  affectionately  speak  with  the  individual  of  his  fail- 
ings, but  do  not  talk  of  them  in  public."  If  all  men 
Qcted  on  these  principles,  slander  would  die  upon  the 


M 

lips  which  gave  it  birth ;  tale-bearers  would  cease,  for 
want  of  customers,  to  carry  on  their  trade  as  pedlars  in 
detraction  ;•  backbiting  would  go  out  of  fashion  ;  and 
the  love  of  scandal  be  starved  for  want  of  food. 

The  evils,  then,  to  which  love  is  opposed,  are — Ca- 
lumny,  which  invents  a  slanderous  report  to  injure  the 
reputation  of  another ;  detraction^  which  magnifies  a 
fault ;  censoriousness,  which  is  too  officious  and  too  ri- 
gid in  condemning  it ;  tale-bearing,  which  propagates 
it;  curiosity,  which  desires  to  know  it ;  malignity,  which 
takes  delight  in  it.  Of  this  list  of  vices,  calumny  is,  of 
course,  the  worst ;  but  a  tattling  disposition,  though  it 
may  have  little  of  the  maUgnity  of  slander,  is  a  servant 
to  do  its  work,  and  a  tool  to  perpetrate  its  mischief. 
Persons  of  this  description  are  far  too  numerous.  They 
are  to  be  found  in  every  town,  in  every  village — yes, 
and  in  every  church.  They  are  not  the  authors  of 
libels,  but  they  are  the  publishers ;  they  do  not  draw  up 
the  placard,  but  only  paste  it  up  in  all  parts  of  the  town  ; 
and  are  amenable,  not  for  the  malice  which  invented  the 
defamatory  lie,  but  for  the  mischief  of  circulating  it. 
Their  minds  are  a  kind  of  common  sewer,  into  which 
all  the  filthy  sti'eams  of  scandal  are  perpetually  flowing: 
a  receptacle  for  whatever  is  offensive  and  noxious. 
Such  gossips  might  be  pitied  for  their  weakness,  if  they 
were  not  still  more  to  be .  dreaded  for  the  injury  they 
do.  They  are  not  malignants,  but  they  are  mischief- 
makers  ;  and,  as  such,  should  be  shunned  and  dreaded. 
Every  door  should  be  closed  against  them,  or,  at  least, 
eveiy  ear.  They  should  be  made  to  feel  that,  if  silence 
be  a  penance  to  them,  their  idle  and  injurious  tales  are 
a  much  more  afflictive  penance  to  their  neighbours. 
Now,  such  persons  would  not  only  be  rendered  more 
safe,  but  more  dignified,  by  charity  :  this  heavenly  vir- 
tue, by  destroying  their  propensity  to  gossiping,  would 
rescue  them  from  reproach,  and  confer  upon  them  an 
elevation  of  character  to  which  they  were  strangers  be- 
fore. It  would  turn  their  activity  into  a  new  channel, 
and  make  them  as  anxious  to  promote  the  peace  of  so- 
ciety, as  they  were  before  to  disturb  it  by  the  din  of 
15* 


162 

their  idle  and  voluble  tongue.  They  would  perceive 
that  no  man's  happineas  can  be  promoted  by  the  publi- 
cation of  his  faults  :  for  if  he  be  penitent,,  to  have  his 
failings  made  the  butt  of  ridicule,  is  like  pouring  nitre 
and  vinegar  upon  the  deep  wounds  of  a  troubled  mind  ; 
or  if  he  be  not,  this  exposure  will  do  harm,  by  produc- 
ing irritation,  and  by  thus  placing  him  farther  off  from 
true  contrition. 

If  it  be  essential  to  charity,  to  feci  a  disposition  to 
cover  the  faults  which  we  witness,  cud  to  treat  with  ten- 
derness and  delicacy  the  offender,  it  is  quite  distressing 
to  consider  how  little  of  it  there  is  in  the  world.  How 
much  need  have  we  to  labour  for  an  increase  of  it  our- 
selves, and  to  diffuse  it,  both  by  our  influence  and  ex- 
ample, that  the  harmony  of  society  may  not  be  so  fre- 
quently interrupted  by  the  lies  of  the  slanderer,  the  ex- 
aggerations of  the  detractor,  the  harsh  judgments  of  the 
censorious,  or  the  idle  gossip  of  the  tale-bearer. 


"  Charity  believeth  all  things." 

Nearly  allied  to  the  property  we  have  just  considered, 
and  an  essential  part  of  candour,  is  that  which  follows  ; 
— "  Charity  believeth  all  things  ;'' — i.  e.  not  all  things 
contained  in  the  word  of  God, — for  faith  m  divine  tes- 
timony is  not  here  the  subject  treated  of, — but  all  things 
which  are  testified  concerning  our  brethren  ;  not,  how- 
ever, such  as  are  testified  to  their  disadvantage,  but  in 
their  favour.  This  property  or  operation  of  love  is  so 
involved,  and  has  been  to  such  an  extent  illustrated,  in 
what  we  have  already  considered,  that  it  cannot  be  ne- 
cessary to  enlarge  upon  the  subject.  As  charity  regards 
with  benevolent  desire  the  well-being  of  all,  it  must  feel 
naturally  disposed  to  believe  whatever  can  be  stated  in 
their  favour.  Tell  a  fond  mother  of  the  faults  of  her 
child :  does  she  immediately  and  entirely  believe  the 
testiinoiiY  ]    No.     You  will  perceive  an  aspect  of  un- 


16S 

belief  on  her  countenance  ;  you  will  hear  inquiries  and 
doubtful  insinuations  from  her  lips  :  and  after  the  clear- 
est evidence  has  been  adduced  in  support  of  the  testi- 
mony, you  will  still  discern  that  she  believes  you  not. 
But,  on  the  contrary,  carry  to  her  a  report  of  her  child's 
good  conduct — tell  her  of  his  achievements  in  wisdom 
or  in  virtue, — and  you  see  at  once  the  look  of  assent, 
the  smile  of  approbation,  hear  the  language  of  convic- 
tion, and,  in  some  cases,  witness  a  degree  of  confidence 
which  amounts  to  weakness.  How  can  we  account  for 
this?  On  the  principle  of  the  Apostle,  that  "love  be- 
lieveth  all  things  :"  the  mother  loves  her  child  ;  she  is 
sincerely  anxious  for  his  well-being ;  and  as  our  wishes 
have  an  influence  upon  our  convictions,  she  is  forward 
to  believe  what  is  said  to  her  child's  honour,  and  as 
backward  to  believe  what  is  said  to  his  discredit. 

Here,  then,  is  one  of  the  brightest  displays  of  charity, 
as  exhibited  in  the  man  who  believeth  all  things  which 
are  related  to  the  advantage  of  others.  He  hears  the 
report  with  unfeigned  pleasure,  Hstens  with  the  smile  of 
approbation,  the  nod  of  assent ;  he  does  not  turn  to  the 
subject  of  human  depravity,  to  find  ground  and  reason 
for  discrediting  the  fact,  nor  does  he  search  with  inqui- 
sitive eye  for  some  flaw  in  the  evidence  to  impeach  the 
veracity  of  the  testimony  ;  he  does  not  cautiously  hold 
his  judgment  in  abeyance,  as  if  afraid  of  believing  too 
well  of  his  neighbour  ;  but,  if  the  evidence  amount  to 
probability,  he  is  ready  to  believe  the  account,  and  de- 
lights to  find  another  and  another  instance  of  human 
excellence,  by  which  he  may  be  more  reconciled  and 
attached  to  the  family  of  man,  and  by  v^^hich  he  disco- 
vers that  there  is  more  goodness  and  happiness  on  earth 
than  he  knew  of  before. 

The  strongest  proof  and  power  of  love,  in  this  mode 
of  its  operation,  is  its  disposition  to  believe  all  good  re- 
ports of  an  enemy  or  a  rival.  Many  persons  can  be- 
lieve nothing  good,  but  everything  bad,  of  those  whom 
they  consider  in  this  light.  Let  them  have  once  con- 
ceived a  prejudice  or  a  dislike  ;  let  them  only  have  been 
injured  or  offended,  ppposed  or  humbled,  by  any  one ; 


164 

—and  from  that  moment  their  ears  are  closed  against 
every  word  to  his  credit,  and  open  to  every  tale  that 
may  tend  to  his  disgrace.  Prejudice  has  neither  eyes 
nor  ears  for  good ;  but  is  all  eye  and  ear  for  evil.  Its 
influence  on  the  judgment  is  prodigious  ;  its  bewildering 
operation  upon  our  convictions  is  really  most  surprizing 
and  frightful.  In  many  cases,  it  gives  up  evidence  as 
bright,  clear,  and  steady,  as  the  meridian  splendour  of 
the  sun,  to  follow  that  which  is  as  dim  and  delusive  bs 
the  feeble  light  of  an  ignis  fatuus.  How  tremblingly 
anxious  should  we  be  to  keep  the  mind  free  from  this 
misleading  influence  !  How  careful  to  obtain  that  can- 
did, impartial,  discriminating  judgment,  which  can  dis- 
tinguish things  that  differ,  and  approve  of  things  that  are 
excellent,  even  in  reference  to  persons  that  are  in  some 
respects  opposed  to  us  !  This  is  candour  ;  and  a  more 
important  (hsposition  of  the  kind  we  can  scarcely  ima- 
gine. Through  that  great  law  of  our  nature,  which  we 
call  the  association  of  ideas,  we  are  too  apt,  when  we 
have  discovered  one  thing  wrong  in  the  character  or 
conduct  of  another,  to  unite  with  it  nothing  but  wrong, 
and  that  continually  :  we  scarcely  ever  think  of  him, 
or  repeat  his  name,  but  under  the  malign  influence  of 
this  unhappy  association.  What  we  need  is  more  of 
that  power  of  abstraction  of  which  we  have  already 
spoken,  by  which  we  can  separate  the  occasional  act 
from  permanent  character — the  bad  qualities  from  the 
good  ones, — and  still  be  left  at  liberty  to  believe  what  is 
good,  notwithstanding  what  we  know  of  the  bad. 

If,  in  accordance  with  the  principles  of  revelation, 
the  testimony  of  our  senses,  and  the  evidence  of  expe- 
rience, we  believe  that  there  is  none  so  perfect  in  the 
view  of  God  as  to  be  destitute  of  all  flaws  ;  we  at  the 
same  time  believe  that,  so  far  as  mere  general  excel- 
lence goes,  there  are  few  so  bad  as  to  be  destitute  of 
all  approvable  traits.  It  is  the  business  of  candour,  to 
examine,  to  report,  to  believe  with  impartiality,  and 
candour  is  one  of  the  operations  of  love.  This  hea- 
venly disposition  forbids  the  prejudice  which  is  genera- 
ted by  diflereuces  on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  ena- 


165 

bles  its  possessor  to  discredit  the  evil,  and  to  believe  the 
favourable  testimony  which  is  borne  to  those  of  other 
denominations  and  of  other  congregations.  All  excel- 
lence belongs  not  to  our  society  or  sect ;  all  evil  is  not 
to  be  found  in  other  societies  or  sects  :  yet  how  pre- 
pared are  many  persons  to  believe  nothing  good,  or 
everything  bad,  of  other  sects  or  other  societies.  Away, 
away,  with  this  detestable  spirit  !  cast  it  out  of  the 
church  of  the  living  God  !  like  the  legion  spirit  which 
possessed  the  man  who  dWelt  among  the  tombs,  and 
made  him  a  torment  to  himself,  and  a  terror  to  others, 
this  demon  of  prejudice  has  too  long  possessed,  and 
torn,  and  infuriated,  even  the  body  of  the  Church. 
"  Spirit  of  love  !  descend,  and  expel  the  infernal  usur- 
per. Cast  out  this  spoiler  of  our  beauty,  this  disturber 
of  our  peace,  this  opponent  of  our  communion,  this 
destroyer  of  our  honour.  Before  thy  powerful  yet 
gentle  sway,  let  prejudice  retire,  and  prepare  us  to  be- 
lieve all  things  that  are  reported  to  us  to  the  credit  of 
others — be  they  of  our  party  or  not — ^whether  they 
have  offended  us  or  not — and  whether  in  past  times  they 
have  done  evil  or  good." 


"  Charity  hopeth  all  things." 

Hope  has  the  same  reference  here,  as  the  faith  just 
considered  ;  it  relates  not  to  what  God  has  promised  in 
his  word  to  them  that  love  him,  but  to  the  good  which 
is  reported  to  exist  in  our  neighbours.  In  a  report  of 
a  doubtful  matter,  where  the  evidence  is  apparently 
against  an  individual,  love  will  still  hope  that  something 
may  yet  turn  up  to  his  advantage — that  some  light  will 
yet  be  thrown  on  the  darker  features  of  the  case,  which 
will  set  the  matter  in  a  more  favourable  point  of  view ; 
it  will  not  give  full  credit  to  present  appearances,  how- 
ever indicative  they  may  seem  to  be  of  evil,  but  hope, 
even  against  hope,  for  the  best. 


«  169 

If  the  action  itself  cannot  b^  defended,  then  love  will 
hope  that  the  motive  was  not  bad ;  that  the  intention  in 
the  mind  of  the  actor  was  not  so  evil  as  the  deed  ap- 
peared to  the  eye  of  the  spectator  ;  that  ignorance,  not 
malice,  was  the  cause  of  the  transaction  ;  and  that  the 
time  will  come  when  this  will  be  apparent. 

Love  does  not  speedily  abandon  an  offender  in  despon- 
dency— does  not  immediately  give  him  up  as  incorrigi- 
ble, nor  soon  cease  to  employ  the  means  necessary  for 
his  reformation  ;  but  is  wiiUng  to  expect  that  he  may 
yet  repent  and  improve,  however  discouraging  present 
appearances  may  be.  Hope  is  the  main  spring  of  ex- 
ertion ;  and  as  love  means  a  desire  for  the  well-being 
of  others,  it  will  not  soon  let  go  that  hope,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  which  all  its  efforts  must  be  paralyzed. 

There  are  reasons  which  make  it  wise,  as  well  as 
kind,  to  believe  and  hope  all  things  for  the  best.  Pre- 
sumptive evidence,  hovoever  strong,  is  often  fallacious. 
Many  circumstances  in  the  case  may  look  very  suspi- 
cious ;  and  yet  the  after-discovery  of  some  little  event 
may  alter  the  aspect  of  the  whole  affair,  and  make  the 
innocence  of  the  accused  far  more  apparent  than  even 
his  guilt  seemed  before.  The  various  instances  in  which 
we  have  ourselves  been  deceived  by  appearances,  and 
have  been  led  by  defective,  though  at  the  time  convinc- 
ing, evidence,  should  certainly  teach  us  caution  in  lis- 
tening to  evil  reports,  and  dispose  us  to  believe  and  hope 
all  things. 

When  we  consider,  also,  how  common  is  slander,  de- 
traction, and  talebearing,  we  should  not  be  hasty  in  form- 
ing an  opinion  ;  nor  should  we  forget  the  anxiety  which 
is  often  manifested  by  each  party  engaged  in  a  conten- 
tion to  gain  our  alliance  to  their  cause,  by  being  first  to 
report  the  matter,  and  to  produce  an  impression  favourable 
to  themselves.  Solomon  has  given  us  a  proverb,  the 
truth  of  which  we  have  seen  proved  in  a  thousand  in- 
stances, and  which,  notwithstanding,  we  are  continually 
forgetting, — "  He  that  is  first  in  his  own  cause,  seemeth 
to  be  just ;  but  his  neighbour  cometh  and  searcheth  him 
out."     It  is  a  proof  of  great  weakness,  so  to  give  our 


167 

ear  to  the  first  reporter,  as  to  close  it  against  the  other 
party  :  and  yet  we  are  all  prone  to  do  this.     A  plausi- 
ble tale  produces  an  impression,  which  no  subsequent 
opposing  testimony,  though  attended  with  far  clearer 
evidence  of  truth  than  the  first  statement,  can  eifectu- 
ally  obliterate.     We  know  that  every  case  has  two  as- 
pects— we  have  all  been  experimentally  acquainted  with 
the  folly  of  deciding  till  we  have  heard  both  sides  ;  and 
yet,  in  opposition  to  our  reason  and  to  our  experience, 
we  are  apt  to  take  up  a  prejudice  upon  ex-parte  state- 
ments.    Another  circumstance,  by  which  we  are  in 
danger  of  being  misled  in  our  opinion  of  our  neigh- 
bour's conduct,  is  the  mischievous  propensity  of  many 
persons,  to  exaggerate  everything  they  relate.     What- 
ever be  the  philosophical  cause,  into  which  a  fondness 
for  the  marvellous,  and  a  delight  in  exciting  surprise, 
may  be  resolved,  its  existence,  and  its  prevalence,  are 
unquestionable.     Perhaps,  we  all  like  to  relate  what  is 
new,  and  strange,  and  interesting  ;  not  excepting  even 
bad  news.     To  such  a  pitch  is  this  carried,  by  those 
who  are  deeply  infected  with  the  propensity,  that  they 
never  tell  anything  as  they  heard  it :  every  fact  is  em- 
bellished or  magnified.     If  a  neighbour  has  displayed  a 
little  warmth  of  temper,  they  saw  him  raging  like  a 
fury :  if  he  was  a  little  cheerful  after  dinner,  he  was 
tippling ;  if  he  was  evasive,  they  protest  that  he  com- 
mitted palpable  falsehood,  if  not  perjury  ;  if  he  had  not 
been  so  generous  in  his  transactions  as  could  be  wished, 
he  was  an  extortioner,  and  devoid  of  common  honesty. 
Nothing  is  moderate  and  sober  in  the  hands  of  such 
persons  ;  everything  is  extravagant,  or  extraordinary. 
All  they  meet  with,  is  in  the  form  of  adventure.     Out 
of  the  least  incident  they  can  construct  a  tale  ;  and  on 
a  small  basis  of  truth,  raise  a  mighty  superstructure  of 
fiction,  to  interest  and  impress  every  company  into 
which  they  come.     Undeterred  by  the  presence  of  the 
individual  from  whom  they  received  the  original  fact, 
they  will  not  scruple  to  go  on  magnifying  and  embellish- 
ing, till  the  author  of  the  statement  can  scarcely  recog- 
nize his  own  narrative.     How  strange  it  seems,  that 


168 

such  people  should  either  not  know,  or  not  remember, 
that  all  this  while  they  are  telling  falsehoods.  They 
do  not  seem  to  understand,  that  if  we  relate  a  circum- 
stance in  such  a  manner  as  is  calculated  to  give  an  im- 
pression which,  either  in  nature  or  degree,  does  not  ac- 
cord with  reality,  we  are  guilty  of  the  sin  of  lying. 
Where  character  is  concerned,  the  sin  is  still  greater, 
since  it  adds  detraction  to  falsehood.  Many  a  man's 
reputation  has  been  frittered  away  by  this  wicked  and 
mischievous  propensity.  Every  narrator  of  an  instance 
of  misconduct,  not,  perhaps,  heinous  in  the  first  in- 
stance, has  added  something  to  the  original  fact,  till  the 
offence  has  stood  before  the  "public  eye,  so  blackened 
by  this  accumulative  defamation,  that,  for  a  while,  he 
has  lost  his  character,  and  only  partially  recovered  it  in 
the  end,  and  with  extreme  difficulty.  Remembering 
the  existence  of  such  an  evil,  we  should  be  backward 
to  take  up  an  unfavourable  opinion  upon  first  appear- 
ance ;  and  where  we  cannot  believe  all  things,  be  wil- 
ling to  hope  :  such  is  the  dictate  of  charity,  and  such 
the  conduct  of  those  who  yield  their  hearts  to  its  influ- 
ence. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THE    SELF-DENIAL    OF    LOVE. 


"  Love  endureth  all  things." 


Charity  is  not  fickle,  unsteady,  and  easily  discour- 
aged ;  not  soon  disheartened,  or  induced  to  relinquish 
its  object ;  but  is  persevering,  patient,  and  self-denying, 
in  the  pursuance  of  its  design  to  relieve  the  wants,  as- 
suage the  sorrows,  reform  the  vices,  and  allay  the  ani- 
mosities, of  those  whose  good  it  seeks.  It  is  as  patient 
in  bearing,  as  it  is  active  in  doing  ;  uniting  the  uncom- 
plaining submission  of  the  lamb,  the  plodding  persever- 
ance of  the  ox,  with  the  courage  of  the  lion. 

It  is  no  frivolous  and  volatile  affection,  relinquishing 
its  object  from  a  mere  love  of  change  ;  nor  is  it  a  fee- 
ble virtue,  which  weakly  lets  go  its  purpose  in  the  pros- 
pect of  difficulty  ;  nor  a  cowardly  grace,  which  drops 
its  scheme,  and  flees  from  the  face  of  danger  ;  no,  it  is 
the  union  of  benevolence  with  strength,  patience, 
courage,  and  perseverance.  It  has  feminine  beauty, 
and  gentleness,  and  sweetness,  united  with  masculine 
energy,  and  power,  and  heroism.  To  do  good,  it  will 
meekly  bear  with  the  infirmities  of  the  meanest,  or  will 
brave  the  scorn  and  fury  of  the  mightiest.  But  let  u^ 
survey  the  opposition,  the  difficulties,  the  discourage- 
ments, the  provocations,  which  it  has  to  bear,  and 
which,  with  enduring  patience,  it  can  resist. 
.16 


170 

Sacrifices  of  easCf  of  time^  of  feeling,  and  of  property, 
must  all  be  endured :  for  it  is  impossible  to  exercise 
Christian  charity  without  making  these.  He  that  would 
do  good  to  others,  without  practismg  self-denial,  does 
but  dream.  The  way  of  philanthropy  is  ever  up  hill, 
and  not  unfrequently  over  rugged  rocks,  and  through 
thorny  paths-  If  we  would  promote  the  happiness  of 
our  fellow-creatures,  it  must  be  by  parting  with  some- 
thing or  other  that  is  dear  to  us.  If  we  would  lay  aside 
revenge  when  they  have  injured  us,  and  exercise  for- 
giveness, we  must  often  mortify  our  own  feelings.  If 
we  would  reconcile  the  diflferences  of  those  who  are  at 
variance,  we  must  give  up  our  time,  and  sometimes  our 
comfort.  If  we  would  assuage  their  griefs,  we  must 
expend  our  property.  If  we  would  reform  their  wick- 
edness, we  must  part  with  our  ease.  If  we  would,  in 
short,  do  good  of  any  kind,  we  must  be  willing  to  deny 
ourselves,  and  bear  labour  of  body  and  pain  of  mind. 
And  love  is  willing  to  do  this  ;  it  braces  itself  for  labour, 
arms  itself  for  conflict,  prepares  itself  for  suffering :  it 
looks  difficulties  in  the  face,  counts  the  cost,  and  hero- 
ically exclaims,  "  None  of  these  things  move  me,  so 
that  I  may  diminish  the  evils,  and  promote  the  happi- 
ness, of  others."  It  will  rise  before  the  break  of  day, 
linger  on  the  field  of  labour  till  midnight,  toil  amidst 
the  sultry  heat  of  summer,  brave  the  northern  blasts  of 
winter,  submit  to  derision,  give  the  energies  of  body 
and  the  comfort  of  mind ;  all  to  do  good. 

tMisconstruction  is  another  thing  that  love  endures. 
Some  men's  minds  are  ignorant,  and  cannot  understand 
its  schemes ;  others  are  contracted,  and  cannot  com- 
prehend them  ;  others  are  selfish,  and  cannot  approve 
them  ;  others  are  envious,  and  cannot  applaud  them  ; 
and  all  these  will  unite,  either  to  suspect  or  to  con- 
demn :  but  this  virtue,  "  like  the  eagle,  pursues  its  no- 
ble, lofty,  heaven-bound  course,  regardless  of  the  flock, 
of  little  pecking  cavilling  birds,  which,  unable  to  fol- 
low, amuse  themselves  by  twittering  their  objections 
and  ill  will  in  the  hedges  below."  Or,  to  borrow  a 
scriptural  allusion,  love,  like  its  great  pattern,  when  he 


171 

was  upon  the  earth,  goes  about  doing  good,  notwith- 
standing the  malignant  perversion  of  its  motives  and 
actions  on  the  part  of  its  enemies.  "  I  must  do  good,'* 
she  exclaims ;  "  if  you  cannot  understand  my  plans,  1 
pity  your  ignorance ;  if  you  misconstrue  my  motives,  I 
forgive  your  malignity ;  but  the  clouds  that  are  exhaled 
from  the  earth,  may  as  well  attempt  to  arrest  the  ca- 
reer of  the  sun,  as  for  your  dulness  or  malevolence  to. 
stop  my  attempts  to  do  good.  I  must  go  on,  without 
your  approbation,  and  against  your  opposition.'* 

Envy  often  tries  the  patience  of  love,  and  is  another 
of  the  ills  which  it  bears,  without  being  turned  aside  by 
it.  There  are  men  who  would  enjoy  the  praise  of  be- 
nevolence without  enduring  its  labours  ;^  that  is,  they 
would  wear  the  laurel  of  victory  without  exposing  them- 
selves to  the  peril  of  war :  they  are  sure  to  envy  the 
braver,  nobler  spirits,  whose  generous  conquests,  hav- 
ing been  preceded  by  labour,  are  followed  by  praise. 
To  be  good,  and  to  do  good,  are  alike  the  objects  of 
envy  with  many  persons.  "  A  man  of  great  merit," 
said  a  French  author,  "  is  a  kind  of  public  enemy. 
By  engrossing  a  multitude  of  applauses,  which  would 
serve  to  gratify  a  great  many  others,  he  cannot  but  be 
envied :  men  naturally  hate  what  they  highly  esteem, 
yet  cannot  love."  The  feeling  of  the  countryman  at 
Athens,  who,  upon  being  asked  why  he  gave  his  vote 
for  the  banishment  of  Aristides,  replied,  "  Because  he 
is  every  where  called  the  just,"  is  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon. The  Ephesians  expelled  the  best  of  their  citi- 
zens, with  the  public  announcement  of  this  reason, 
"  If  any  are  determined  to  excel  their  neighbours,  let 
them  find  another  place  to  do  it."  Envy  is  that  which 
love  hates  and  proscribes,  and,  in  revenge,  envy  hates 
and  persecutes  love  in  return  ;  but  the  terror  of  envy 
does  not  intimidate  love,  nor  its  malignity  disgust  it :  it 
can  bear  even  the  perversions,  misrepresentations,  and 
opposition,  of  this  fiend-like  passion,  and  pursues  its 
course,  simply  saying,  "Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan." 

Ingratitude  is  often  the  hard  usage  which  love  has  to 
sustain,  and  which  it  patiently  endures.     Into  such  a 


17!a 

state  of  turpitude  is  man  fallen,  that  he  would  bear  any 
weight  rather  than  tha^of  obligation.  Men  will  ac- 
knowledge small  obligations,  but  often  return  malice 
for  such  as  are  extraordinary ;  and  some  will  sooner 
forgive  great  injuries  than  great  services.  Many  per- 
sons do  not  know  their  benefactors,  many  more  will  not 
acknowledge  them,  and  others  will  not  reward  them, 
even  with  the  cheap  offering  of  thanks.  These  things 
are  enough  to  make  us  sick  of  the  world  :  yes ;  but 
ought  not  to  make  us  weary  of  trying  to  mend  it ;  for 
the  more  ungrateful  it  is,  the  more  it  needs  our  benevo- 
lence. Here  is  the  noble,  the  lofty,  the  godlike  temper 
of  charity :  it  pursues  its  course  like  the  providence  of 
Jehovah,  which  continues  to  cause  its  sun  to  rise  and 
its  rain  to  descend,  not  only  upon  the  irrational  crea- 
tures, who  have  no  capacity  to  know  their  benefactor, 
but  upon  the  rational  ones,  many  of  whom  have  no  dis- 
position to  acknowledge  him. 

Derision  is  often  employed  to  oppose  the  efforts  of 
love  by  all  the  artillery  of  scorn.  Spiritual  religion, 
and  especially  that  view  of  it  which  this  subject  exhi- 
bits, has  ever  been  an  object  of  contempt  to  ungodly 
men.  Banter  and  ridicule  are  brought  to  stop  its  pro- 
gress ;  the  greatest  profaneness  and  buffoonery  ar6 
sometimes  employed  to  laugh  it  out  of  countenance ; — 
but  it  has  learned  to  treat  with  indifference  even  the 
cruel  mockings  of  irony,  and  to  receive  upon  its  shield- 
arm  all  the  arrows  of  the  most  envenomed  wit. 

Opposition  does  not  disgust,  nor  persevering  obstinacy 
weary,  it.  It  can  endure  to  have  its  schemes  examined 
and  sifted  by  those  who  cannot  understand  them,  ca- 
villed at  by  those  who  cannot  mend  them,  and  resisted 
by  those  who  have  nothing  to  offer  in  their  place.  It 
does  not  throw  all  up  in  a  fit  of  passion,  nor  suffer  the 
tongue  of  petulance,  nor  the  clamour  of  envy,  to  stop 
its  efforts. 

Want  of  success,  that  most  discouraging  considera- 
tion to  activity,  is  not  sufficient  to  drive  it  from  the  field  ; 
but  in  the  expectation  of  the  future  harvest,  it  conti- 
nues to  plough  and  to  sow  in  hope.  Its  object  is  too  im- 


173 

portant  to  be  relinquished  for  a  few  failures  ;  and  no- 
thing but  the  demonstration  of  absolute  impossibility- 
can  induce  it  to  give  up  its  benevolent  purpose. 

If  instances  of  this  view  of  Christian  love  be  neces- 
sary to  illustrate  and  enforce  it  by  the  power  of  exam- 
ple, many  and  striking  ones  are  at  hand.  Few,  very 
few,  are  worthy  of  being  put  in  competition  with  that 
of  Mr.  Cl  ARKS  ON,  whose  illustrious  name,  and  that  of 
his  no  less  illustrious  coadjutor,  Mr.  Wilberforce, 
will  ever  be  pronounced  with  tears  of  gratitude  by  Afri- 
ca, as  the  chief  agents  in  the  work  of  inducing  the 
greatest  commercial  nation  upon  earth  to  abolish  the 
infernal  traffic  in  human  beings ;  and  ought  to  be  re- 
corded in  letters  of  gold  by  their  grateful  countrymen, 
for  having  delivered  the  nation  from  the  greatest  crime 
which,  in  her  modern  history,  she  ever  committed,  and 
from  the  greatest  curse  which  she  could  dread  at  the 
hands  of  retributive  justice.  Perhaps  no  uninspired 
book  may  be  so  fairly  regarded  as  a  beautiful  comment 
on  the  expression,  "  Charity  endureth  all  things,"  as 
Clarkson's  "History  of  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave 
Trade."  Twenty  years  of  that  good  man's  life  were 
occupied  in  long  and  fatiguing  journies,  at  all  seasons 
of  the  year :  in  labours  of  an  almost  incredible  extent, 
to  trace  reports  to  their  source,  to  collect  information, 
and  to  gather  evidence  ;  in  braving  opposition,  bearing 
all  kinds  of  ridicule,  encountering  savages,  whose  trade 
had  made  them  reckless  of  crime,  and  thirsty  for  blood ; 
in  personal  exposure,  so  great,  that  by  nothing  less  than 
supernatural  strength,  granted  for  the  occasion,  would 
he  have  been  rescued  at  one  time  from  threatened  and 
intended  death.  Nor  was  this  the  full  measure  of  the 
endurance :  disappointment  the  most  bitter  and  dis- 
couraging often  extinguished  his  brightest  hopes ;  luke- 
warmness  on  the  part  of  those  from  whom  he  had  a 
right  to  expect  the  most  zealous  co-operation  often  sad- 
dened his  heart,  though  it  never  paralyzed  his  zeal ;  and, 
to  try  his  perseverance  and  put  his  benevolence  to  the 
severest  test,  his  cause  was  of  a  nature  which,  by  the 
sufferings  it  brought  under  review,  was  enough  to  sicken 
16* 


174 

and  turn  from  its  purpose  a  compassion  of  less  hardi- 
hood than  his.  What  must  that  man  have  had  to  en- 
dure, who  thus  describes  his  feelings  after  the  details  of 
evidence  furnished  by  only  one  of  the  thousands  of 
days  spent  in  familiarizing  himself  with  the  various 
scenes  of  the  biggest  outrage  ever  committed  against 
the  rights  of  humanity  1—"  The  different  scenes  of 
barbarity  which  these  represented  to  me,  greatly  added 
to  the  affliction  of  my  mind.  My  feelings  became  now 
almost  insupportable.  I  was  agonized  to  think  that 
this  trade  should  last  another  day  :  I  was  in  a  state  of 
agitation  from  morning  till  night :  I  determined  I  would 
soon  leave  the  place  in  which  I  saw  nothing  but  misery. 
I  had  collected  now,  I  believe,  all  the  evidence  it  would 
afford ;  and  to  stay  a  day  longer  in  it  than  was  neces- 
sary, would  be  only  an  interruption  to  my  happiness 
and  health." 

Who  but  a  Christian  philanthropist  of  the  highest 
order  could  have  pursued  such  a  career,  year  after  year, 
and  not  be  so  wearied  by  labour — so  ^heartened  by 
opposition — so  disgusted  by  cruelty, — as  to  abandon  the 
object  of  his  pursuit  1  Here  was,  indeed,  a  beautiful 
illustration  of  the  "  love  that  endureth  all  things." 

But  a  greater  than  Clarkson  might  be  mentioned. 
Let  the  history  of  St.  Paul  be  studied,  and  his  suffer- 
ing career  be  traced,  and  his  declarations  heard  con- 
cerning his  varied  and  heavy  tribulations.  "  I  think 
that  God  hath  set  forth  us  the  apostles  last,  as  it  wei-e 
appointed  to  death ;  for  we  are  made  a  spectacle  unto 
the  world,  and  to  angels,  and  to  men.  We  are  fools 
for  Christ's  sake,  but  ye  are  wise  in  Christ :  we  are 
weak,  but  ye  are  strong :  ye  are  honourable,  but  we 
are  despised.  Even  unto  this  present  hour,  we  both 
hunger  and  thirst,  and  are  naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and 
have  no  certain  dwelling  place  ;  and  labour,  working 
with  our  own  hands :  being  reviled,  we  bless  :  being 
persecuted,  we  suffer  it:  being  defamed,  we  entreat: 
we  are  made  as  the  filth  of  the  earth,  and  are  the  off- 
scouring  of  all  things  unt»  this  day."  "  In  labours 
more  abundant,  in  stripes  above  measure,  in  prisons 


175 

more  frequent,  in  deaths  oft.  Of  the  Jews  five  times 
received  I  forty  stripes  save  one.  Thrice  was  I  beaten 
with  rods  ;  once  was  I  stoned ;  thrice  I  suffered  ship- 
wreck ;  a  night  and  a  day  I  have  been  in  the  deep :  in 
journeyings  often,  in  perils  of  waters,  in  perils  of  rob- 
bers, in  perils  by  mine  own  countrymen,  in  perils  by 
the  heathen,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilder- 
ness, in  perils  in  the  sea,  in  perils  among  false  brethren : 
in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in  watchings  often,  in 
hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings  often,  in  cold  and  naked- 
ness. Besides  those  things  that  are  without,  that  which 
cometh  upon  me  daily,  the  care  of  all  the  churches." 
Nor  did  these  sufferings  come  upon  him  without  his  be- 
ing previously  apprized  of  them,  for  the  Holy  Ghost 
had  witnessed  to  him  that  bonds  and  afflictions  awaited 
him.  Yet  neither  the  prospect  of  his  varied  tribula- 
tions, nor  the  full  weight  of  them,  made  him  for  a  mo- 
ment think  of  relinquishing  his  benevolent  exertions  for 
the  welfare  of  mankind.  His  was  the  love  that  "  en- 
dureth  all  things." 

And  a  greater,  far  greater  than  even  the  great  Apos- 
tle of  the  Gentiles,  might  be  also  introduced,  as  afford- 
ing, by  his  conduct,  a  most  striking  illustration  of  this 
property  of  Christian  charity.  Who  but  himself  can 
conceive  of  what  the  Son  of  God  endured  while  he  so- 
journed in  this  world  1  Who  can  imagine  the  magni- 
tude of  his  sufferings,  and  the  extent  of  that  opposition, 
ingratitude,  and  hard  usage,  amidst  which  those  suffer- 
ings were  sustauied,  and  by  which  they  were  so  greatly 
increased  1  Never  was  so  much  mercy  treated  with  so 
much  cruelty ;  the  constant  labour  he  sustained,  and 
the  many  privations  to  which  he  submitted,  were  little, 
compared  with  the  malignant  contradiction,  resistance, 
and  persecution,  he  received  from  those  who  were  the 
objects  of  his  mercy.  The  work  of  man's  redemption 
was  not  accomplished,  as  was  the  work  of  creation,  by 
a  mere  fiat  delivered  from  the  throne,  on  which  Omni- 
potence reigned  in  the  calm  repose  of  infinite  majesty : 
no — the  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us, 
as  a  man  of  sorrow  and  acquamted  with  grief     The 


176 

m 

wrath  of  God,  the  fury  of  devils,  the  rage  of  man,  the 
malignity  of  enemies,  the  wayward  follies  and  fickle- 
ness of  friends,  the  baseness  of  treachery,  the  scorn  of 
official  rank,  and  the  many  stings  of  ingratitude,  ca- 
lumny, and  inconstancy, — all  poured  their  venom  into 
that  heart  which  glowed  with  affection  to  the  children 
of  men.  Nothing  turned  him  from  his  purpose — no- 
thing abated  his  ardour  in  the  work  of  our  salvation. 
His,  too,  and  above  all  others,  was  indeed  a  love  which 
"  endureth  all  things.^* 

Such  is  the  model  we  are  to  copy.  In  doing  good 
we  must  prepare  ourselves  for  opposition,  and  all  its 
attendant  train  of  evils.  Whether  our  object  be  the 
conversion  of  souls,  or  the  well-being  of  man's  corpo- 
real nature — whether  we  are  seeking  to  build  up  the 
temporal,  or  to  establish  the  eternal,  interests  of  man- 
kind,— we  must  remember  that  we  have  undertaken  a 
task  which  will  call  for  patient,  self-denying,  and  per- 
severing effort.  In  the  midst  of  difficulties,  we  must 
not  utter  the  vain  and  cowardly  wish,  that  we  had  not 
set  our  hand  to  the  plough ;  but  press  onward  in  hum- 
ble dependance  upon  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
animated  by  the  hope  of  either  being  rewarded  by  suc- 
cess, or  by  the  consciousness  that  we  did  every  thing  to 
obtain  it;  and  we  shall  do  this,  if  we  possess  much  of 
the  power  of  love ;  for  its  ardour  is  such,  that  many 
waters  cannot  quench  it.  Its  energies  increase  with 
the  difficulty  that  requires  them,  and,  like  a  well-con- 
structed arch,  it  becomes  more  firm  and  consolidated 
by  the  weight  it  has  to  sustain.  In  short,  it  is  "  sted- 
fast,  immoveable,  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the 
Lord,  forasmuch  as  it  knows  that  its  labour  shall  not  be 
in  vain  in  the  Lord." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE    PERMANENCE    OF    LOVE. 


"  Charily  never  faileth-" 


Permanence  is  the  climax  of  excellence.  How 
often  has  the  sigh  heen  heaved,  and  the  tear  been  shed, 
over  the  perishable  nature  of  earthly  possessions.  Their 
transient  duration  presented  a  painful  contrast  to  their 
great  worth,  and  extorted  the  sorrowful  exclamation, 
Alas !  that  such  excellence  sholild  be  mortal !  The 
charm  of  beauty  soon  fades,  the  force  of  genius  is  at 
length  exhausted,  the  monuments  of  art  decay ;  an  in- 
curable taint  of  corruption  has  infected  every  thing 
earthly,  and  even  religion  itself  does  not  confer  immor- 
tality upon  every  thing  that  belongs  to  its  sacred  eco- 
nomy. One  thing  there  is,  which  shall  remain  for  ever, 
for  "  charity  never  faileth  ;"  and  its  permanence  is  the 
crown  and  glory  of  all  its  other  noble  qualities.  It  is 
a  truly  immortal  disposition, — bearing  no  exclusive  re- 
lation to  earth  or  to  time,  but  destined  to  pass  away 
from  the  world  with  the  souls  in  which  it  exists,  to 
dwell  in  heaven,  and  flourish  through  eternity. 


178 

When  it  is  said  that  it  never  faileth,  we  are  not  mere- 
ly to  understand,  that  being  once  planted  in  the  soul, 
it  remains  there  as  the  centre  and  support  of  all  the 
other  practical  virtues :  that  it  will  so  remain,  is  un- 
qiiestionable,  for  its  continuance  is  essential  to  the  ex- 
istence of  personal  and  social  religion.  A  man  may 
change  his  opinions  on  some  subjects — he  may  give  up 
some  sentiments  once  believed  by  him  to  be  truth ; 
but  he  cannot  give  up  love,  vsrithout  ceasing  to  be  a 
Christian. 

Nor  does  the  Apostle  mean  that  it  remmns  as  the 
spirit  of  Christianity  till  the  end  of  time,  amidst  every 
change  of  external  administration  :  that  it  shall  so  abide 
is  unquestionable.  The  genius  of  piety  is  unchange- 
able. This  was  the  temper  obligatory  upon  the  primi- 
tive Christian ;  it  is  obligatory  upon  us  ;  and  it  will  be 
no  less  so  upon  every  future  generation.  A  holier  and 
happier  age  is  in  reserve  for  the  Church  of  Christ ; 
"  compared  with  which,  invisible  though  it  be  at  pre- 
sent, and  hid  behind  the  clouds  which  envelope  this 
dark  and  troubled  scene,  the  brightest  day  that  has  yet 
shone  upon  the  world  is  midnight,  and  the  highest 
splendours  that  have  invested  it  the  shadow  of  death :" 
but  this  glory  shall  consist  in  a  more  perfect  and  con- 
spicuous manifestation  of  the  grace  of  love.  It  is  in 
this,  combined  with  a  clearer  perception  of  the  truth, 
that  the  Christians  of  the  Millennium  will  surpass  those 
of  every  preceding  age. 

But  the  Apostle's  reference  is  evidently  to  another 
world :  his  eye  was  upon  heaven,  and  he  was  looking 
at  things  unseen  and  eternal,  when  he  said  that  "  cha- 
rity never  faileth."  He  was  then  soaring  on  the  wing 
of  faith,  and  exploring  the  scenes  of  eternity,  among 
which  he  saw  this  celestial  plant,  surviving  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  universe,  outliving  the  earthly  state  of  the 
church,  transplanted  to  the  paradise  of  God,  and  flour- 
ishing in  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  near  the 
fountain  of  light  and  love. 

To  give  still  greater  emphasis  to  what  he  says  of  its 
continuance,  he  contrasts  it  with  some  things,  which, 


179 

however  highly  valued  by  the  Corinthian  believers,  were 
of-  a  transient  duration,  and,  therefore,  of  greatly  infe- 
rior value  to  this. 

"  Whether  there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail."  By 
prophecies  here,  we  are  to  understand  inspired  inter- 
pretation of  the  Scriptures  ;  all  new  revelations  from 
God,  by  oral  or  written  communication,  for  the  instruc- 
tion and  edification  of  the  saints.  These,  so  far  from 
belonging  to  the  heavenly  state  of  the  church,  did  not 
survive  its  primitive  ages.  The  gift  of  inspiration  was 
soon  withdrawn,  the  oracle  of  prophecy  was  hushed, 
and  all  further  responses  from  heaven  were  denied. 

"  Whether  there  be  tongues,  they  shall  cease."  This, 
of  course,  refers  to  the  miraculous  power  of  speaking 
any  language  without  previous  study.  This  gift  also 
ceased  with  the  other  extraordinary  endowments  of  the 
primitive  ages,  and  bears  no  relation  to  the  heavenly 
world.  Whether  the  communication  of  ideas  in  the 
celestial  state  will  be  carried  on  by  speech,  is,  at  pre- 
sent, unknown  to  us ;  if  it  be  so,  what  the  language 
will  be  is  beyond  conjecture. 

"  Whether  there  be  knowledge,  it  shall  vanish  aicay." 
This  expression  most  probably  refers  to  what  is  called, 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  "  the  word  of  knowledge  ;" 
and  of  which  the  Apostle  speaks  in  the  beginning  of 
this  chapter — "  Though  I  understand  all  mysteries,  and 
all  knowledge,  and  have  not  love,  I  am  nothing."  It 
means  an  inspired  knowledge  of  the  types,  predictions, 
and  mysteries,  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  of  their  ac- 
complishment by  the  facts  of  the  Christian  economy. 
This,  also,  was  among  the  signs  and  wonders  which 
were  to  vanish  away ;  which,  having  been  granted  as 
attestations  to  the  divine  authority  of  the  word  of  God, 
and  for  the  edification  of  the  church,  were  disconti- 
nued when  the  canon  of  Scripture  was  completed  and 
settled. 

Some  extend  the  Apostle's  reasoning  so  far,  as  to  in- 
clude every  kind  of  our  present  knowledge  ;  which,  as 
to  its  imperfect  attainments,  and  inadequate  mediums, 
and  present  modes  of  communication,  shall  be  remov- 


180 

ed,  and  give  place  to  a  more  easy  and  perfect  method 
of  acquiring  truth,  and  a  more  entire  comprehension  of 
its  nature  and  relations. 

As  to  the  knowledge  of  the  arts  of  the  practical  sci- 
ences and  of  literature,  this  shall  be  lost  and  forgotten, 
as  utterly  useless,  and  as  bearing  no  relation  whatever 
to  the  celestial  state.  Ye  master  spirits,  ye  command- 
ing geniuses,  ye  lordly  minds,  who  exhaust  the  force  of 
your  intellect,  and  lavish  its  treasures  upon  themes  of 
mere  earthly  interest, — see  here  the  termination  of  all 
your  labours.  Scholars,  poets,  painters,  sculptors, 
warriors,  ye  who  assemble  in  the  temple  of  fame,  amidst 
the  mightiest  productions  of  human  skill,  to  pay  ho- 
mage to  each  other,  to  receive  the  admiration  of  the 
world,  and  to  immortalize  your  names, — giving  to  your 
mighty  works  the  full  measure  of  their  value,  in  refer- 
ence to  earth  and  to  time, — admitting  that,  in  this  view, 
they  are  bright  scenes  in  the  history  of  man ;  yet  still, 
in  reference  to  heaven  and  its  eternity,  they  are  nothing 
— less  than  nothing — and  vanity.  Not  an  angel  would 
turn  to  gaze  upon  the  noblest  production  of  human 
imagination,  nor  will  a  plea  be  put  in  by  a  single  inha- 
bitant of  heaven,  to  exempt  from  the  destruction  of  the 
last  fire  the  sublimest  specimens  of  human  skill.  My- 
riads of  volumes  have  been  already  lost  and  forgotten  ; 
myriads  more  are  on  their  way  to  oblivion ;  myriads 
still  shall  rise,  only  to  vanish  ; — and  of  all  the  accumu- 
lations that  shall  have  been  made  by  the  time  of  the 
Millennium,  arid  which  shall  have  been  going  on  through 
the  longest  and  the  purest  age  of  reason — not  one  shall 
be  saved  from  the  general  conflagration,  as  worthy  to 
be  borne  to  the  heavenly  world.  "  Knowledge  shall 
vanish  away." 

But  not  only  shall  the  knowledge  contained  in  the 
scientific,  and  literary,  and  imaginative,  productions  of 
men  vanish,  together  with  the  volumes  by  which  it  was 
circulated ;  but  all  theological  works, — our  creeds,  our 
catechisms,  our  articles  of  faith,  our  bodies  of  divinity, 
our  works  of  biblical  criticism,  our  valued, — and  justly 
valued,  commentaries, — our  sermons,  aud  our  treatises. 


181 

— all  shall  vanish.  The  knowledge  we  gain  from  these 
sources  is  not  that  which  will  attend  us  to  the  skies,  and 
be  sufficient  for  us  when  we  have  arrived  at  the  region 
of  cloudless  splendour,  the  element  of  wisdom,  the  na- 
tive land,  and  dwelling-place  of  truth. 

The  introduction  of  this  idea,  by  the  Apostle,  has 
given  occasion  for  one  of  the  most  striking  digressions 
from  his  tract  of  thought  which  he  ever  made.  His 
argument  only  required  him  to  state  that  love  is  better 
than  the  gift  of  knowledge,  because  the  latter  shall 
cease  ;  .but  he  proceeds  to  show  why  it  shall  cease,  and 
ascribes  its  continuance  to  its  imperfection :  he  then 
takes  an  opportunity  to  draw  one  of  the  most  sublime 
contrasts  to  be  found  in  the  Word  of  God,  between 
our  knowledge  in  the  present  world,  and  our  more 
perfect  comprehension  of  truth  in  the  world  that  is  to 
come. 

And  why  shall  knowledge  vanish  away  1  because 

"  We  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part." 

A  part  only  of  truth  is  made  known,  and,  therefore,  a 
part  only  is  received  by  us.  This  may  imply  that  there 
are  many  things  we  do  not  know  at  all.  Who  can  doubt 
this  1  Upon  the  supposition  that  we  were  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  all  that  is  proper  to  be  known,  all  that 
could  be  acquired  by  the  aid  of  reason  and  the  disco- 
veries of  revelation,  still  we  should  hear  a  voice,  saying 
to  us,  "  Lo,  these  are  a  part  of  his  ways,  but  the  thun- 
der of  his  power  who  can  understand  1"  There  are, 
doubtless,  truths  of  vast  importance  and  of  deep  in- 
terest, which  have  never  yet  approached,  and,  in  the 
present  world,  never  will  approach,  the  horizon  of  the 
human  understanding.  There  are  paths  in  the  region 
of  truth  which  the  vulture's  eye  has  not  seen,  and  which 
are  hid  from  the  view  of  all  living. 

When,  on  his  death-bed,  the  great  Newton  was  con- 
gratulated upon  the  discoveries  he  had  made,  he  repli- 
ed, with  the  modesty  usually  attendant  on  vast  attain- 
ments, ♦'  I  have  been  only  walking  on  the  shores  of 

17 


182 

truth,  and  have,  perhaps,  picked  up  a  gem  or  two,  of 
greater  value  than  others  ;  but  the  vast  ocean  itself  lies 
all  before  me."  This  is  strictly  correct  in  reference  to 
the  material  universe,  to  which  the  remark  was  intend- 
ed to  apply.  Of  natural  truth,  the  ocean,  with  its 
depths,  its  islands,  and  the  continents  and  kingdoms  to 
which  it  leads,  is  all  before  us.  We  have  only  looked 
upon  the  surface,  and  seen  some  of  the  objects  passing 
upon  it :  we  have  only  seen  a  few  land-marks,  on  one 
part  of  one  of  its  shores  ;  but  the  infinitude  of  its  am- 
ple space,  and  the  innumerable  objects  which  that  space 
contains,  are  yet  to  be  explored.  And  with  respect  to 
the  spiritual  world,  although  we  possess,  in  the  volume 
of  inspiration,  a  revelation  of  the  most  sublime,  impor- 
tant, and  interesting  objects  of  knowledge  ;  yet,  pro- 
bably, there  are  truths  of  which,  after  all  that  divines 
and  philosophers  have  written,  we  can  form  no  more 
conception,  than  we  can  of  the  objects  of  a  sixth  sense, 
or  than  a  blind  man  can  of  colours.  "  We  know  only 
in  part." 

It  is  implied  also,  that  what  we  do  know,  ire  know 
but  imperfectly.  In  some  cases,  our  knowledge  is  un- 
certainty, and  amounts  only  to  opinion  :  faith  is  weak, 
and  mixe<l  with  many  doubts.  We  cannot  exultingly 
exclaim,  "  I  know  ;"  we  can  scarcely  say,  "  I  believe." 
The  object  sometimes  presents  itself  to  our  mind,  like 
the  sun  seen  dimly  through  a  mist, — now  appearing, 
and  then  lost  again,  in  the  density  of  the  fog.  Now  a 
truth  comes  upon  us,  in  a  thin  and  shadowy  form  ;  we 
think  we  see  it,  but  it  is  again  obscured.  We  only  see 
glimmerings.  We  perceive  appearances,  rather  than 
demonstrations  ;  dark  outlines,  not  perfect  pictures. 

And  where  no  doubt  undermines  the  certainty  of  our 
knowledge,  what  narrow  limits  bound  its  extent !  We 
walk,  as  through  a  valley  shut  in  on  each  side  by  lofty 
mountains,  whose  tops  are  lost  amidst  the  clouds,  whose 
Aadows  add  to  the  obscurity  of  our  situation,  and 
whose  mighty  masses  stand  between  us  and  the  pros- 
pect which  lies  beyond.  How  imperfect  and  limited  is 
our  knowledge  of  the  great  God— of  the  spirituality  of 


183 

his  nature — of  his  necessary  self-existence  from  ete»- 
nity — of  his  triune  essence  !  How  feeble  are  oujr 
conceptions  of  the  complex  person  of  Christ,  the  GoA- 
man  Mediator ;  of  the  scheme  of  providence,  embr^ 
cing  the  history  of  our  world,  and  of  all  other  worlds  ; 
and  of  the  connexion  between  providence  and  redemp- 
tion !  How  have  divines  and  philosophers  been  pei- 
plexed  on  the  subject  of  the  entrance  of  moral  evil ;  on 
the  agreement  between  divine  prescience,  and  the  freew- 
dom  of  the  human  will ;  between  moral  inability,  and 
human  accountability  !  How  much  obscurity  hangs, 
in  our  view,  over  many  of  the  operations  of  nature  ! 
how  soon  do  we  arrive  at  ultimate  laws,  which,  for  aught 
we  can  tell,  may  be  only  effects  of  causes  that  are  hid- 
den from  our  observation  !  In  what  ignorance  do  we 
live,  of  many  of  the  most  common  occurrences  around 
us.  Who  has  perfect  ideas  of  the  essences  of  things, 
separate  and  apart  from  their  qualities — of  matter,  for 
instance,  or  spirit?  Who  can  perfectly  conceive  how 
the  idea  of  motion  results  from  that  of  body,  or  how  the 
idea  of  sensation  results  from  that  of  spirit  1  On  what 
theme  shall  we  meditate,  and  not  be  mortified  to  find 
how  little  progress  we  can  make  before  we  are  arrested 
by  insurmountable  difficulties  ]  On  what  eminence  shall 
we  take  our  stand,  and  to  what  part  of  the  horizon  di- 
rect our  eye,  and  not  see  clouds  and  shadows  resting 
like  a  veil  upon  the  prospect  1  How  truly  is  it  said, 
"  We  know  but  in  part."  Angels  must  wonder  at  the 
limitation  of  our  ideas  ;  and  disembodied  spirits  must  be 
astonished  at  the  mighty  bound  they  make,  by  that  one 
step  whicj^  conducts  them  across  the  threshold  of 
eternity. 

The  Apostle  illustrates  the  present  imperfection  of 
our  knowledge,  compared  with  its  future  advancement, 
by  two  similitudes.  The  first  is,  the  difference  between 
the  ideas  of  a  child  and  those  of  a  man.  "  When  I  was 
a  child,  I  spEike  as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I 
thought  as  a  child ;  but  when  I  became  a  man,  I  put 
away  childish  things."  The  meaning  of  Paul  in  this 
verse  is,— that  our  knowledge  in  the  heavenly  state  wiU 


164 

be  as  diflferent  from,  and  as  superior  to,  any  thing  we 
gain  on  earth,  as  the  ideas  of  an  adult,  in  the  maturity  of 
his  intellectual  powers,  are  to  those  which  he  enter- 
tained when  he  was  a  child.  Our  knowledge,  at  pre- 
sent, is  that  of  children ;  we  are  not  only  in  the  minori- 
ty, but  in  the  infancy,  of  our  minds.  Our  notions  are 
the  opinions  of  children ;  our  discourses  are  the  lispings 
of  children ;  our  controversies  the  reasonings  of  children. 
The  prodigious  attainments  of  those  great  luminaries, 
Bacon,  Milton,  Boyle,  Locke,  Newton ;  and  in  the 
science  of  theology,  of  those  great  divines,  Owen, 
Howe,  Charnock,  Baxter,  Bates,  Butler,  Hooker ; — 
all  these  are  but  the  productions  of  children,  written  for 
the  instruction  of  others  less  taught  than  themselves. 
Yea,  the  Apostle  includes  himself  and  his  writings  in 
the  description — "  We  know  in  part,  and  we  prophesy 
in  part.  When  /  was  a  child,  /  spake  as  a  child ;  but 
when  /became  a  man,  /  put  away  childish  things."  He 
alludes  to  his  own  childish  conceits,  and  puerile  simpli- 
city, which  had  given  way  to  the  matured  knowledge 
oS  his  riper  years  :  and,  by  implication,  declares  his  ex- 
pectation, that  the  knowledge  which  he  should  gain  in 
the  celestial  state  would  be  as  much  above  his  present 
views,  as  they  were  beyond  those  which  he  entertained 
when  he  was  a  child.  Yes :  that  greatest  of  mere  men — 
that  illustrious  individual  who  had  been  in  the  third 
heaven — who  had  explored,  as  we  imagine,  some  of  the 
secrets  of  the  unseen  world — who  had  fathomed  so 
much  of  the  depth,  measured  so  much  of  the  height,  of 
truth  ;  even  he  tells  us,  that  he  was  but  in  his  minority. 
What  an  idea  does  it  give  us  of  the  infinitum  of  know- 
ledge yet  to  be  obtained,  when  we  are  informed  that  the 
Bible  itself,  even  the  New  Testament — that  book  of 
books,  the  work  of  which  it  is  said,  it  has  God  for  its 
author,  truth  without  any  mixture  of  error  for  its  con- 
tents, and  salvation  for  its  end — is  but  a  book  for  child- 
ren, a  work  for  saints  in  their  infancy,  a  mere  elemen- 
tary treatise  on  the  subject  of  eternal  truth,  written  by 
the  finger  of  God,  for  his  family,  during  their  education 

and  novitiate  on  earth. 

-  i 


185 

•  •  The  second  similitude,  by  which  the  present  imper- 
fection of  our  knowledge  is  set  forth,  is  that  very  par- 
tial acquaintance  which  we  gain  with  material  objects, 
by  looking  at  them  through  a  glass.  "  Now  we  see 
through  a  glass,  darkly." 

Considerable  diversity  of  opinion  prevails  as  to  the 
precise  object  of  the  Apostle's  allusion  in  the  expres- 
sion which  he  here  employs.  It  is  admitted  that  the 
word  in  the  original  literally  signifies  a  mirror;  and 
hence  most  expositors  consider  that  the  comparison  is  to 
this  article,  and  that  his  meaning  is,  that  our  knowledge 
of  divine  truth  in  this  world,  is  only  of  that  partial  kind 
which  we  gain  by  seeing  objects  reflected  from  a  mirror. 
But  does  this  accord  with  his  design,  which  is  to  repre- 
sent the  obscurity  of  our  present  ideas,  compared  with 
what  we  shall  know  hereafter,  when  that  which  is  per- 
fect is  come  1  The  knowledge  we  gain  of  an  object  that 
is  reflected  from  a  highly  polished  surface  is  too  accu- 
rate to  furnish  such  a  comparison.  Hence  some  are  of 
opinion, — and  this  is  the  view  I  take, — that  the  allusion 
is  to  those  semi-transparent  substances,  such  as  horn 
and  diaphanous  stones,  which  were  used  in  windows  be- 
fore glass  was  known,  and  through  which  objects  would 
be  but  very  dimly  seen.  Nothing  could  better  accord 
with  the  Apostle's  purpose  than  this.  How  dim  and 
shadowy  do  those  forms  appear,  which  we  discover 
through  such  a  medium  :  we  discern  only  the  mere  out- 
line ;  every  thing  is  seen  imperfectly,  and  many  things 
connected  with  the  object  are  not  seen  at  all.  "  We 
see  it  through  a  glass,  darkly."  The  term  rendered 
"  darkly"  signifies  an  enigtna,  a  riddle,  a  form  of  speech 
in  which  one  thing  is  put  for  another  ;  which,  though  in 
some  respects  like  it,  is  but  an  obscure  representation, 
and  calculated  to  puzzle  those  who  are  required  to  find 
out  the  thing  which  is  thus  darkly  shadowed  forth. 

Here  it  may  be  proper  to  inquire  why  divine  truth  is 
at  present  involved  in  so  much  comparative  darkness. 

It  is  designed  to  accord  with  the  analogy  of  faith.  We 
are  to  walk  by  faith,  which  is  not  only  opposed  to  the 
17* 


186 

the  testimony  of  sense,  but  is  distinguished  also  from  the 
clearness  and  certainty  of  perfect  knowledge. 

It  comports  also  with  the  purpose  of  a  divine  revelation. 
There  is  no  doubt  but  that  some  of  the  clouds  which  en- 
velope the  subjects  of  revealed  truth  could  have  been 
dissipated,  and  many  things  put  in  a  still  clearer  light. 
A  studied  caution,  a  designed  reserve,  is  maintained  in 
some  places  ;  for  as  the  Bible  is  given  to  be  a  test  of 
moral  disposition,  the  evidence  should  be  sufficient  to 
demand  belief,  without  being  enough  to  compel  it.  The 
Bible  affords  us  light  enough  to  assist  us  in  discharging 
the  duties  of  this  world,  and  to  guide  us  to  glory,  honour, 
immortality,  and  eternal  life ;  but  it  concedes  nothing  to 
curiosity — nothing  to  a  spirit  of  restless  inquiry.  It 
stands  like  a  waymark  on  the  high  road  to  eternity,  and 
is  intended  simply  to  announce  what  is  truth,  and  the 
way  to  its  dwelling-place,  but  not  to  make  known  to  the 
traveller  all  the  details  of  the  city  to  which  he  is  jour- 
neying. 

And,  in  another  view,  this  obscurity  is  absolutely 
necessary.  If  the  disclosure  were  more  obscure,  it  would 
be  beyond  our  apprehension  ;  we  could  know  nothing  ; 
and,  in  that  case,  religion  could  have  no  existence,  or 
exist  only  as  the  blind  oflfspring  of  ignorance.  If  it  were 
more  cloudy  and  shadowy,  it  would  have  no  power  to 
arrest  attention  or  interest  the  heart :  it  might,  indeed, 
point  to  a  brighter  state,  where  it  would  throw  otf  the 
dense  covering  in  which  it  had  enwrapped  itself  on  earth ; 
but  too  little  of  the  beauty  of  truth  would  be  seen  to 
captivate  our  affections,  and  to  allure  us  to  follow  her  to 
that  world  where  she  displays  her  unveiled  glories :  but 
as  revelation  is  now  given  to  us,  enough  of  the  beauty  of 
truth  is  seen,  to  inspire  us  with  a  pure  affection — 
enough  is  concealed,  to  make  us  long  to  see  her  face  to 
face.  And  were  all  the  knowledge  that  it  is  possible  for 
us  to  receive  actually  communicated  to  us,  tr/io,  amidst 
$uch  acquisitions,  could  attend  to  the  low  pursuits  of  ordi- 
nary affairs  ?  The  immediate  effect  of  such  a  disclosure 
would  be  to  produce,  so  far  as  real  Christians  are  con- 
cerned, a  total  stagnation  of  the  affairs  of  this  life.     All 


187 

the  studies  and  pursuits,  the  arts  and  the  labours,  which 
now  employ  the  activity  of  man — which  support  order, 
or  promote  happiness, — would  lie  neglected  and  aban- 
doned. It  is  necessary  that  something  of  the  magni- 
tude of  truth  should  be  concealed — something  of  its 
effulgence  softened — something  of  its  beauty  veiled, — 
or  the  holy  mind  of  the  Christian,  absorbed  in  such  a 
vision,  would  find  all  that  is  important  in  life  utterly  in- 
significant, and  all  that  is  attractive  tasteless  and  insi- 
pid. Disturbed  in  his  lofty  meditations,  and  interrupted 
in  his  ecstasies,  by  the  din  of  business,  and  the  obtru- 
sion of  low,  grovelling  cares,  and  judging  that  scenes 
of  secular  activity  unfitted  him  for  communion  with  this 
heavenly  visitant, — he  would  retire  from  the  social 
haunts  of  men,  to  converse  with  truth  in  the  solitude  of 
the  hermitage  or  the  silence  of  the  desert.  So  neces- 
sary is  it  to  hang  a  veil  on  the  too  dazzling  brightness 
of  divine  subjects. 

This  partial  obscurity  is  also  necessary,  on  account  of 
the  feebleness  and  limited  extent  of  our  faculties.  Our 
minds  could  no  more  bear  to  look  upon  the  unmitigated 
glory  of  divine  truth,  than  the  eye  of  an  infant  could 
sustain  the  unsoftened  effulgence  of  the  mid-day  sun. 
Our  minds  cannot  grasp,  in  its  full  extent,  one  single 
subject  out  of  all  the  mighty  theory.  Some  vague  idea 
may  be  formed  of  the  almost  illimitable  range  of  this 
plan,  when  we  recollect  that  its  developement  is  to  em- 
ploy our  understanding  in  the  highest  state  of  intellec- 
tual perfection,  and  to  employ  it,  not  for  a  measured 
term,  but  through  the  countless  ages  of  an  endless  ex- 
istence. The  study,  the  discovery,  the  enjoyment,  of 
truth  will  form  one  of  the  chief  felicities  of  the  heaven- 
ly state  :  but  what  must  that  knowledge  be,  which  is  to 
afford  something  new  and  interesting  through  eternity  1 
how  can  this  be  obtained  by  man  in  the  infancy  of  his 
existence  upon  earth  1  There  are  subjects  yet  to  be 
known,  which  would  have  no  less  surpassed  the  underr 
standing  of  Newton,  than  his  profound  discoveries  in 
science  would,  the  mind  of  a  child. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  we  walk  at  present  amidst 


IBS 

shades  and  glimmerings.  But  how  humbling  is  this 
view  of  the  subject  to  the  pride  of  intellect !"  "  There 
is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty 
giveth  him  understanding."  The  thinking  mind  is  the 
glory  of  our  nature  ;  it  is  the  candle  of  the  Lord  shin- 
ing "  in  the  earthly  house  of  our  tabernacle,"  and 
giving  light  to  all  the  faculties  of  our  soul,  to  guide 
their  operations,  and  to  direct  them  in  their  appropriate 
business.  To  what  an  immeasurable  elevation  does  it 
raise  man  above  the  brute  creation !  What  wonders  it 
has  achieved — what  stupendous  monuments  of  wisdom 
and  power  it  has  raised  !  Who  can  mention  the  names 
of  the  giants  of  the  world  of  mind,  and  especially  who 
can  survey  the  productions  of  their  genius,  without 
having  high  notions  of  the  capacities  of  the  human  un- 
derstanding ?  But  what  are  all  the  works  of  the  greatest 
theologians,  the  profoundest  philosophers,  when  com- 
pared with  the  knowledge  of  another  world,  but  as  the 
ideas  of  one  who  "  thought  as  a  child,  and  spake  as  a 
child  !"  Shall  any  man — shall  the  greatest  of  men — 
be  proud  of  their  modicum  of  knowledge,  vain  of  their 
childish  notions,  puffed  up  with  their  poor  scantling  of 
information  1  Were  the  meanest  and  least  of  all  the 
spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  to  come  down  and  ca- 
techise a  synod  of  the  greatest  divines  on  earth,  how 
soon  would  he  confound  them  amidst  their  most  saga- 
cious discoveries  and  most  celebrated  works.  What 
infantine  conceptions,  what  puerile  conceits,  could  be 
found  out  in  their  most  finished  productions  !  So  little 
reason  has  man  for  the  pride  of  understanding — so 
much  cause  to  clothe  himself  with  the  garment  of  hu- 
mility- 


HEAVEN   A    STATE    OF    PERFECT   KNOWLEDGE. 


"  But  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then  that  which  is  in  part 
shall  be  done  away.  Now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly  ;  but  then 
face  to  face :  now  I  know  but  in  part  ;  but  then  shall  I  know,  even  as 
I  am  known." 


All  these  expressions  refer  to  the  celestial  world, 
and  unite  to  teach  us  that  heaven  is  a  state  of  perfect 
knowledge.  Here  we  know  only  part  of  truth  ;  then 
we  shall  know  the  whole  :  here  we  know  nothing  but 
in  a  partial  manner ;  there  we  shall  know  every  thing 
completely  :  here  we  see  truth,  only  as  we  perceive  the 
dark  shadow  of  a  man,  through  a  dense  medium  ;  there 
we  shall  behold  it  as  clearly  as  we  do  the  same  man 
when  we  see  him  face  to  face :  there  we  shall  know 
truth,  even  as  we  are  known  by  superior  beings,  i.  e. 
with  as  much  certainty,  though  not  with  the  same  com- 
prehension. • 

This  last  expression  has  been  sometimes  explained, 
as  conveying  the  intimation  that  we  shall  recognize  each 
other  in  the  celestial  state.  "  We  shall  know  others, 
even  as  we  are  known  by  them."  Many  reasons  con- 
cur to  produce  the  expectation  of  this  mutual  recogni- 
tion. It  is  almost  impossible  to  suppose  that  we  shall 
maintain  our  identity,  not  only  of  person  but  of  cha- 
racter ;  and  also  the  reminiscence  of  our  earthly  exis- 
tence and  history;  without  believing  the  interesting 
truth,  that  we  shall  again  be  mutually  known  to  each 
other  in  the  heavenly  world.  This  is  one  of  the  senti- 
ments which  the  sacred  writers  rather  take  for  granted 
than  stop  to  prove.  But  certainly  this  is  not  the  mean- 
ing of  the  paissage  now  under  consideration.     The 


tm 

Apostle  here  speaks  of  our  knowledge  of  things,  not 
of  persons. 

The  felicity  of  the  celestial  state  will,  doubtless,  in- 
clude every  thing  that  can  yield  delight  to  a  corporeal, 
social,  intellectual,  and  moral  creature.  It  is  eternal 
life— everlasting  existence,  attended  by  every  thing  that 
can  render  existence  a  blessing.  It  is  hfe,  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  term — ^life  in  the  highest  degree  of  perfec- 
tion. The  glorified  body  will  probably  retain  the  or- 
gans of  sound  and  sight, — the  purest  of  the  senses, — 
and  thus  become  the  inlet  of  the  most  pleasurable  sen- 
sations ;  while  it  will  be  for  ever  free  from  the  cravings 
of  appetite,  the  languor  of  sickness,  the  distress  of  pain, 
the  weariness  of  labour.  The  social  impulse  will  be 
gratified  by  the  sublime  converse  of  "  the  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect."  The  moral  feelings  will  all  combine  in  the 
most  unsullied  purity  ;  while  the  intellect  will  be  irra- 
diated by  the  light  of  eternal  truth.  The  heart  will 
thus  repose  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  chief  good,  and  the 
mind  in  the  contemplation  of  the  first  truth ;  beyond 
which  nothing  remains  to  be  enjoyed — nothing  to  be 
known. 

But  we  are  now  considering  heaven  under  the  repre- 
sentation of  a  state  of  knowledge,  and  as  an  intellectual 
condition.  In  this  light  the  Scriptures  frequently  speak 
of  the  glory  to  be  revealed.  They  call  it  an  inheritance 
"  in  light ;"  they  describe  it  as  a  world  where  there  is 
no  night.  There  "  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is,"  "  be- 
hold his  glory,"  "  see  him  face  to  face  :"  expressions 
which  relate  more  to  the  eyes  of  the  mind  than  to  those 
of  the  body.  Perhaps  we  do  not  sufficiently  contem- 
plate heaven  in  this  view  of  it.  The  greater  part  of 
mankind  are  taken  up  with  mere  sensations,-  and  are 
but  little  acquainted  with  the  pure  enjoyment  connected 
with  the  perception  of  evidence  and  the  apprehension 
of  truth.  The  rapturous  exclamation,  "  I  have  found 
it !"  is  rarely  uttered  by  the  multitude,  over  anything 
but  the  ac(juisition  of  wealth  or  the  gratification  of  ap- 
petite.    But  those  who  have  been  engaged  in  any  mea- 


^  191 

sure  in  intellectual  pursuits,  will  be  able  to  appreciate 
the  pleasures  of  knowledge.  Evidence  is  to  the  mind 
like  light  to  the  eye,  and  the  perception  of  truth,  as  wa- 
ter to  the  thirsty.  Even  the  comparatively  barren  sci- 
ences of  numbers  and  figures,  which  exclude  the  ope- 
ration of  the  fancy,  and  present  nothing  to  exercise  the 
passions  or  gratify  the  imagination,  the  truths  of  which 
derive  all  their  interest  from  the  evidence  by  which  they 
are  supported,  or  the  manner  in  which  they  are  ap- 
plied to  other  purposes  ;-^yes ;  even  these  are  a  source 
of  high  and  pure  enjoyment  to  the  human  mind,  which 
is  ever  seeking  to  arrive  at  infallible  certainty,  and  can 
repose  nowhere  else.  What  exquisite  delight  has  been 
experienced  by  some  men,  when,  after  a  long  process 
of  reasoning  or  a  fatiguing  course  of  experiments,  they 
have  at  length  arrived  at  a  demonstration.  If,  then,  in 
the  present  world,  where  the  subjects  of  our  research 
are  often  so  insignificant,  where  our  knowledge  is  ob- 
tained with  such  labour,  is  limited  by  so  much  ignorance, 
and  blended  with  so  much  error ;  if  amidst  such  cir- 
cumstances the  pleasure  of  knowledge  be  so  great, — 
what  will  it  be  in  the  heavenly  state  *? 

Let  us  consider  what  will  be  the  objects  of  our 
knowledge. 

If  we  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  we  shall  know 
all  things  that  are  knowable,  so  far  as  an  acquaintance 
with  them  will  contribute  to  our  felicity.  We  shall 
know  every  thing  that  is  essential  to  the  right  perform- 
ance of  duty,  or  to  the  most  perfect  gratification  of  our 
intellect — all  that  lies  within  our  proper  sphere  or  com- 
pass as  creatures. 

We  shall  perfectly  comprehend  all  the  laws  which  go- 
vern the  material  world.  The  discovery  of  these  are 
now  considered  to  be  among  the  most  dignified  and  gra- 
tifying employments  of  the  human  understanding.  It 
was  his  discoveries  in  natural  philosophy  which  gave  to 
our  great  Newton  his  celebrity.  What  a  high  station 
in  the  records  of  fame  is  assigned  to  Linneus,  La  Place, 
Davy,  and  Watt,  and  to  others,  who  have  explored  the 
secrets  and  explained  the  laws  of  nature  !    They  are 


ranked  among  the  illustrious  members  and  most  valu- 
able benefactors  of  their  species.     They  are  looked  up 
to  with  a  kind  of  semi-idolatry,  and  their  praises  are 
continually  chanted  for  their  vast  achievements,  not 
only  in  adding  to  the  stock  of  knowledge,  but  in  accu- 
mulating fresh  honours  upon  human  nature.     What 
sublime  and  astonishing  facts  are  included  in  the  sci- 
ences of  astronomy,  optics,  chemistry !  how  much  of 
the  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  of  the  divine  Archi- 
tect are  displayed  in  the  works  of  creation  ! — yet  these 
things  are  now  hidden  from  a  great  portion  of  the  re- 
deemed, who,  by  the  disadvantages  of  their  education, 
are  shut  out  from  these  sources  of  knowledge.     But 
they  will  be  admitted  to  them  in  heaven.     Creation  will 
not  be  destroyed  at  the  judgment  day,  but  only  purified. 
The  vast  and  splendid  machine  will  not  then  be  thrown 
aside,  broken  up,  and  consigned  to  oblivion.     Nothing 
which  the  hand  of  the  Creator  hath  framed  shall  be 
forgotten.     The  brilliant  scenes  which  are  now  passing 
before  our  eyes,  but  on  which  many  even  regenerated 
minds  look  without  understanding  them,  are  not  a  mere 
pageant.     Beautiful  was  the  remark  of  the  eminently 
pious  Bishop  Hall,  who,  on  being  told  in  his  old  age 
that  his  views  of  astronomy  were  not  quite  correct,  re- 
plied, "  Well !  it  may  be  so ;  but  I  am  soon  going  to 
heaven,  and  as  1  shall  take  the  stars  in  my  way,  I  must 
leave  the  subject  till  then,  when  every  mistake  will  be 
rectified."     So  completely  will  all  the  disadvantages  of 
our  earthly  condition  be  removed  in  heaven,  whether 
those  disadvantages  arise  from  the  Christian  being  bom 
in  an  age  when  knowledge  is  in  its  infancy,  or  amidst 
those  privations  of  poverty  which  deny  him  access  to 
the  sources  of  information.     In  the  hour  of  death,  the 
pious  but  illiterate  tenant  of  the  cottage,  on  whose 
mind  the  orb  of  science  never  rose,  though  the  sun  of 
righteousness  poured  upon  it  the  light  of  a  spiritual 
illumination,  ascends  above  the  disadvantages  of  edu- 
cation, makes  a  glorious  transition  from  the  shades  of 
ignorance,  in  which  he  dwelt  upon  earth,  into  the  cloud- 
less transparency  of  the  firmament  on  high.     His  na- 


19S 

tural  faculties,  icompressed  and  enfeebled  now  by  the 
circumstances  of  his  birth,  shall  then  expand  to  a  com- 
prehension, and  attain  to  a  vigour,  probably  not  sur- 
passed by  the  loftiest  of  the  human  race  ;  and  he,  too, 
shall  know  in  heaven,  the  works  of  the  God  of  nature, 
as  he  knew  below,  and  shall  still  better  know  above, 
the  works  of  the  God  of  grace. 

Providence  will  form  another  mighty  range  of  inquiry, 
and  another  source  of  delightful  knowledge  in  heaven. 
By  providence,  we  mean  God's  moral  government  of 
the  universe — the  course  of  the  divine  administration 
towards  rational  and  moral  creatures :  that  mighty 
scheme,  which  commenced  its  application  before  time 
was  born,  or  the  foundations  of  the  earth  were  laid ; 
which  embraces  the  annals  of  other  worlds  besides  ours; 
which  includes  the  history  of  angels,^  men,  and  devils. 
Providence  comprises  the  whole  range  of  events,  which 
have  taken  place  from  the  formation  of  the  first  creature, 
to  the  last  moment  of  time,  with  all  the  tendencies,  rea- 
sons, connexions,  and  results,  of  things ;  the  separate 
existence  of  each  individual,  with  the  continuation  and 
influence  of  the  whole,  in  one  harmonious  scheme. 
Providence  is  now  full  of  mysteries.  We  are  puzzled 
at  almost  every  step.  Innumerable  are  the  events  over 
which,  after  having  in  vain  endeavoured  to  sound  their 
depth  with  the  line  of  our  reason,  we  must  exclaim,  "  O 
the  depth  !"  But  we  shall  know  all ;  why  sin  was  per- 
mitted, and  how  it  entered,  with  all  the  attendant  train 
of  incomprehensible  results  which  followed  its  introduc- 
tion into  the  moral  universe.  It  will  then  be  made  ap- 
parent to  us,  why  so  long  a  period  elapsed  between  the 
first  promise  of  a  Saviour,  and  his  incarnation,  suffer- 
ings, and  death :  why,  for  so  many  ages,  the  world  was 
Ifeft  in  ignorance,  sin,  and  misery :  why  such  errors  were 
permitted  to  enter  the  church ;  and  so  soon,  and  so  ex- 
tensively, to  corrupt  the  simplicity  and  deform  the  beau- 
ty of  the  Christian  profession :  why  the  man  of  Sin  was 
suffered  to  establish  his  seat  in  the  temple  of  Christ ;  to 
exalt  himself  above  all  that  is  called  God ;  to  utter  his 
blasphemy  ;  to  shed  the  blood  of  the  saints  ;  and  so  long 
18 


194 

to  spread  the  clouds  of  superstition,  and  the  shades  of 
death,  over  Christendom :  why  the  impostor  of  Mecca 
was  allowed  to  arise,  and  for  so  many  ages  to  render  a 
large  portion  of  the  earth  inaccessible  to  the  rays  of  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness :  why  idolatry,  with  all  its  sangui- 
nary deities,  and  all  its  bloody  and  obscene  rites,  was 
left  so  long  to  insult  the  heavens,  to  pollute  the  earth,  and 
to  curse  mankind.  What  deep,  unfathomable  mysteries 
are  these !  How  confounding  to  our  reason,  and  how 
utterly  beyond  our  research  !  What  astonishment  and 
delight,  what  inconceivable  emotions,  will  be  produced 
by  the  gradual  unfolding  of  the  mighty  scheme,  by  the 
progressive  discoveries  of  the  connexions  and  issues  of 
things,  and  the  wondrous  display  of  divine  glory  which 
will  be  made  by  the  whole.  How  shall  we  be  enraptured 
to  find,  that  those  events  which  now  so  confound  us, 
were  dark  only  by  excess  of  wisdom,  and  that  those  facts 
which  so  often  distressed  us  upon  earth  were  but  the 
more  sombre  shades  of  the  perfect  picture !  What  mani- 
festations of  Deity  will  then  be  made,  when  God  shall 
admit  us  to  his  cabinet,  and  lay  open  to  us  the  arcana  of 
his  government ! 

And,  doubtless,  we  shall  not  only  see  the  harmony 
and  wisdom  of  Providence,  in  its  general  aspect  and  its 
more  comprehensive  combinations  and  arrangements, 
but  in  its  particular  bearing  on  ovr  own  private  and  per- 
sonal history.  '  The  most  important  and  interesting 
chapter  in  the  volume  of  universal  history  is,  to  us,  that 
which  contains  the  record  of  our  life.  What  clouds  and 
shadows  still  rest,  and  in  the  present  state  ever  must  rest, 
upon  our  obscure  and  humble  annals.  How  often  is 
Jehovah,  in  his  dealings  with  us,  a  God  that  hideth  him- 
self! how  often  does  he  wrap  himself  in  clouds,  and  pur- 
sue his  path  upon  the  waters,  where  we  can  neither  see 
his  goings  nor  trace  his  footsteps !  How  many  of  his  dis- 
pensations are  iiiexplicable  !  and  of  his  judgments,  how 
many  arr  unfathomable  by  the  short  line  of  our  reason  ! 
But  whatever  we  know  not  now,  we  shall  know  hereaf- 
ter :  the  crooked  will  be  made  straight,  the  cloud  of 
darkness  will  be  scattered,  and  all  his  conduct  towards 


195 

us  placed  in  the  broad  daylight  of  eternity.  We  shall 
see  the  connexion  which  our  individual  history  bears 
with  the  general  scheme  of  providence ;  and  perceive 
how,  notwithstanding  our  insignificance,  our  existence 
was  no  less  necessary  to  the  perfection  of  the  whole 
plan,  than  that  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth.  We  shall 
see  how  all  the  varying  and  numerous,  and  seemingly 
opposite,  events  of  our  history  were  combined  into  one 
gracious  purpose  of  mercy,  which  was  most  perfectly 
wise  in  all  its  combinations  :  now  we  believe  that  "  all 
things  work  together  for  good ;"  then  we  shall  see  how 
this  end  was  accomplished  by  events,  which,  at  the  time, 
put  us  to  so  much  grief,  and  involved  us  in  so  much  sur- 
prise. Delightful,  most  delightful  will  it  be,  to  retrace 
our  winding  and  often  gloomy  course,  and  discern  at 
each  change  and  turning  the  reason  of  the  occurrence, 
and  the  wisdom  of  God :  delightful  will  it  be,  to  discern 
the  influence  which  all  our  temporal  circumstances,  all 
our  disappointments,  losses,  and  perplexities,  had  upon 
our  permanent  and  celestial  happiness.  How  much  of 
divine  wisdom,  power,  goodness,  and  faithfulness,  will 
our  short  and  humble  history  present ;  and  what  rap- 
turous fervour  will  the  discovery  give  to  the  song  of 
praise  which  we  shall  utter  before  the  throne  of  God  and 
the  Lamb. 

Revelation,  as  containing  the  scheme  of  human  re- 
demption by  Jesus  Christ,  will  be  another  object  of  our 
study,  and  source  of  knowledge.  The  Bible  is  given  to 
make  God  known ;  and  one  page  of  the  Bible,  yea  one 
verse,  makes  known  more  of  God  than  all  the  volume  of 
nature.  But,  after  all,  how  little  do  we  know  of  God, 
of  his  essence,  of  his  triune  mode  of  subsistence,  of  his 
natural  perfections,  of  his  moral  attributes  ]  What  an 
unfathomable  mystery  is  Deity  !  In  what  a  pavilion  of 
darkness  does  Jehovah  dwell !  Who,  by  searching,  can 
find  out  God  1  In  heaven  we  shall  know  him,  for  we 
shall  see  him  face  to  face  ;  we  shall  behold  his  glory,  and 
see  him  as  he  is.  We  shall  have  as  perfect  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  divine  character,  as  a  finite  mind  can  at- 
tain to :  and  in  this  one  object,  shall  find  employmeat 


196 

and  bliss  through  eternity.  We  shall  never  exhaust  this 
theme.  Eternity  is  necessary  to  study  that  which  is  in*, 
finite.  i 

We  shall  there  comprehend,  so  far  as  it  can  be  done' 
by  a  finite  mind,  the  complex  person  of  Jesus  Christ. 
We  cannot  now  understand  this ;  "  great  is  the  mystery 
of  Godliness, — God  manifest  in  the  flesh  ;"  but  what  we 
know  not  now,  we  shall  know  hereafter.  Then  will  the 
cross  be  seen,  as  the  central  point  of  the  divine  adminis- 
tration, bright  with  ten  thousand  glories,  and  sending  out 
its  beams  to  the  extremity  of  the  moral  system.  The 
ruin  of  the  world  by  its  federal  connexion  with  Adam ; 
the  election  of  the  Jews,  and  the  long  abandonment  of 
the  Gentiles ;  the  slow  advance  of  Christianity  to  its 
millennial  reign  and  triumph;  the  bearing  of  redemption 
upon  other  orders  of  beings  beside  man  ;  the  difficulties 
which  hang  like  impenetrable  clouds  upon  the  doctrines 
of  personal  election,  regeneration,  perseverance,  the 
freedom  of  the  will  viewed  in  connexion  with  divine  pre- 
science and  predestination ; — all,  all  will  be  laid  open 
to  the  view  of  glorified  saints  in  heaven.  Every  thing 
in  the  Scriptures,  which  is  now  dark,  shall  be  made 
light.  A  reconciling  point  shall  be  found  for  every 
seeming  contradiction,  and  the  faith  and  patience  of  the 
saints  be  rewarded,  for  having  received  the  truth  on  the 
credit  of  him  who  spoke  it,  without  demanding  to  see 
before  they  believed. 

Such  shall  be  the  sources  of  knowledge  in  heaven. 
O  the  bliss  of  eternally  drinking  in  knowledge  from 
such  fountains ! 

We  may  now  consider  the  advantages  which  the 
heavenly  state  will  possess  for  the  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge. 

The  soul  will  there  be  perfect  in  holiness^  and  thus  the 
understanding  will  be  delivered  from  the  disturbing  and 
bewildering  influence  of  sin.  In  our  present  state  of  im- 
perfection, the  depravity  of  our  nature  contracts  and 
misdirects  our  judgment :  the  corruptions  of  the  heart 
send  up  a  mist,  which  veils  the  lustre  of  truth,  and  con- 
ceals its  extent  and  glory  from  the  mind.     The  judg- 


197 

ment  cannot  now  see  spiritual  objects  in  all  their  range, 
and  order,  and  beauty,  because  of  sin.  But  in  heaven 
this  contracting  and  darkening  influence  will  cease  for 
ever.  No  evil  bias,  no  sinful  prejudice,  will  ever  warp 
the  judgment :  no  disease  of  the  soul  will  dim  its  eye  or 
enfeeble  its  power.  With  eagle  pinion  it  will  soar  to 
the  fountain  of  radiance,  and  with  eagle  vision  bear  the 
full  blaze  of  its  glory.  The  natural  faculty  of  the  mind 
will  then  attain  to  its  full  maturity  of  strength.  The  mind 
is  here  in  its  infancy  :  there  it  will  come  to  its  age.  Even 
the  intellects  of  the  greatest  geniuses,  while  on  earth, 
are  but  human  minds  in  childhood,  as  we  have  already 
considered,  and  their  most  prodigious  efforts  but  as  in- 
fantine exercises.  Here  they  only  tried  their  powers  : 
but  in  heaven  the  mind  will  put  forth  to  their  full  extent 
all  those  wondrous  faculties  which  are  now  shut  up  and 
compressed  in  our  nature,  for  want  of  room  and  oppor- 
tunity to  expand.  In  heaven,  we  shall  not  be  diverted 
and  called  off  from  the  pursuit  of  truth  by  the  inferior  in- 
terests of  the  body  :  the  soul  will  not  be  prevented  from 
making  excursions  into  the  regions  of  light,  by  the  cares, 
wants,  and  anxieties,  which  abound  in  this  state  of  being, 
but  will  be  left  at  leisure  to  pursue  her  sublime  re- 
searches. She  will  have  nothing  to  hinder  the  acquire- 
ment and  enjoyment  of  knowledge.  To  crown  all, 
heaven  is  an  eternal  state^  and  everlasting  ages  will  be 
afforded  through  which  the  glorified  mind  will  carry  on 
its  pursuits.  Were  the  term  of  human  life  again  pro- 
tracted to  the  antediluvian  age,  what  vast  attainments 
would  be  made  by  us  all  in  the  discovery  of  truth !  What, 
then,  must  it  be  to  have  eternity  through  which  to  grow 
in  knowledge  1 

We  might  notice  the  characters  of  our  knowledge, 
It  will  be  perfect :  by  which  we  are  not  to  understand 
that  it  will  be  as  complete  as  the  nature  of  things  admits 
of,  for  we  should  then  possess  a  comprehension  equal 
to  that  of  God.  We  cannot  perfectly  know  every  thing 
as  it  may  be  known  :  our  ideas  of  many  things  must  be 
hmited,  especially  those  which  relate  to  the  divine  na- 
ture. By  perfection,  we  mean  freedom  from  error : 
18* 


198 

our  knowledge  will  be  free  from  all  admixture  of  doubt, 
suspense,  and  fallacy ;  our  attainments  will  be  bounded 
only  by  our  capacity ;  there  will,  perhaps,  be  a  grada- 
tion of  mind  in  heaven,  no  less  obviously  marked  than 
that  which  exists  on  earth ;  but  all  capacities  will  be 
filled. 

Our  knowledge  will  doubtless  be  progressive.  In- 
crease of  ideas  is,  perhaps,  in  the  case  of  a  creature, 
essential  to  felicity.  We  now  find  more  pleasure  in  re- 
ceiving a  new  and  important  truth,  than  we  experience 
in  all  we  before  possessed.  A  state  in  which  there  re- 
mains nothing  more  to  be  known,  conveys  not  an  idea 
of  happiness  so  vividly  as  that  where  the  delight  of  dis- 
covering something  new  is  ever  added  to  the  joy  of  con- 
templating so  much  that  is  old.  What  a  view  of  hea- 
ven ! — An  eternal  advance  in  the  most  important  know- 
ledge ;  an  everlasting  accumulation  of  ideas ;  an  inter- 
minable progression  in  truth.  In  the  march  of  the 
mind  through  intellectual  and  moral  perfection,  there  is 
no  period  set:  this  perfection  of  the  just  is  for  ever  car- 
rying on — is  carrying  on,  but  shall  never  come  to  a 
close.  God  shall  behold  his  creation  for  ever  beautify- 
ing in  his  eyes,  for  ever  drawing  near  to  himself,  yet 
still  infinitely  distant  from  him,  the  fountain  of  all  good- 
ness. There  is  not  in  religion  a  more  joyful  or  tri- 
umphant consideration  than  this  perpetual  progress 
which  the  soul  makes  in  the  perfection  of  its  nature, 
without  ever  arriving  at  its  ultimate  period.  Here  truth 
has  the  advantage  of  fable.  No  fiction,  however  bold, 
presents  to  us  a  conception  so  elevating  and  astonishing 
as  this  interminable  line  of  heavenly  excellence.  To 
look  upon  the  glorified  spirit,  as  going  on  from  strength 
to  strength,  adding  virtue  to  virtue,  and  knowledge  to 
knowledge  ;  making  approaches  to  goodness  which  is 
infinite  ;  for  ever  adorning  the  heavens  with  new  beau- 
ties, and  brightening  in  the  splendours  of  moral  glory 
through  the  ages  of  eternity  ; — has  something  in  it  so 
transcendent,  as  to  satisfy  the  most  unbounded  ambition 
of  an  immortal  spirit.  Christian  !  does  not  thy  heart 
glow  at  the  thought  that  there  is  a  time  marked  out  in 


199 

the  annals  of  heaven,  when  thou  shalt  he  what  the  an- 
gels now  are  ;  when  thou  shalt  shine  with  that  glory  in 
which  principalities  now  appear;  and  when,  in  full 
communion  with  the  Most  High,  thou  shalt  "  see  him 
as  he  is  ?" 

How  our  knowledge  in  heaven  will  be  acquired,  whe- 
ther by  testimony,  by  immediate  revelation,  or  by  some 
method  of  mental  application,  it  would  be  idle  to  spe- 
culate. We  know  that  whatever  mode  is  determined 
upon  by  God,  will  promote,  and  not  interrupt,  our  feli- 
city ;  we  shall  have  nothing  of  the  weariness  of  study 
— nothing  of  the  anxiety  of  doubt — nothing  of  the 
torture  of  suspense.  Ideas  will  flow  into  the  soul  with 
the  same  ease  and  pleasure  on  our  part  as  rays  of  light 
come  to  the  bodily  eye. 

Whatever  knowledge  we  gain  in  heaven  will  be 
transforming  :  it  will  not  be  mere  opinion,  or  uninflu- 
ential  speculation.  All  our  ideas  will  be  as  fuel,  to  feed 
the  flame  of  love,  which  will  then  burn  upon  the  altar 
of  the  soul :  all  will  be  quickening,  penetrating,  influ- 
ential. Our  opinions  will  be  principles  of  action. 
Every  thing  will  lead  us  to  see  more  of  God,  to  love 
him  with  a  more  intense  glow  of  holy  affection,  and  to 
be  more  conformed  to  him.  The  light  of  truth  will 
ever  be  associated  with  the  warmth  of  love.  "  We 
shall  be  like  God,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is." 

It  is  difficult  to  find,  in  the  volume  of  revelation,  a 
stronger  internal  evidence  of  its  divine  original,  than  the 
view  it  gives  of  the  celestial  state,  combining,  as  it  does, 
the  perfection  of  knowledge  and  of  purity.  Every 
other  representation  which  has  been  given  of  heaven, 
bears  the  mark  of  an  earthly  source, — ^the  proof  of  be- 
ing a  human  device.  As,  in  seeking  for  a  Deity,  man 
found  the  prototype  in  his  own  passions,  when  .he  had 
abandoned  the  one  living  and  true  God  ;  so,  in  forming 
a  heaven,  he  collected  all  the  materials  from  the  objects 
of  his  own  fleshly  delights.  The  Elysium  of  the  Greeks 
and  the  Romans  ;  the  Hall  of  the  Scandinavians ;  the 
Paradise  of  the  Mahometans ;  the  fantastic  abodes  of 
the  departed  Hindoos ; — are  all  adapted  to  their  de- 


200 

praved  appetites,  and  were  suggested  by  their  corrupt 
imaginations.  Beyond  the  pleasures  of  a  seraglio,  of 
a  field  of  glory,  or  of  a  hall  resounding  with  the  shout 
of  victory — beyond  the  gratification  of  sense — man, 
when  left  to  himself,  never  looked  for  the  happiness 
which  is  to  constitute  his  paradise.  A  heaven  made  up 
of  perfect  knowledge,  and  of  perfect  love,  is  a  vision 
entirely  and  exclusively  divine,  and  which  never  beam- 
ed upon  the  human  understanding  till  the  splendid 
image  came  upon  it  from  the  word  of  God.  How 
worthy  of  God  is  such  a  representation  of  celestial 
bliss  !  It  is  an  emanation  from  his  own  nature,  as  thus 
described : — "  God  is  light :  God  is  love."  The  glo- 
rious reality  is  evidently  the  provision  of  his  own  wis- 
dom and  grace  ;  and  the  sublime  description  of  it  in 
the  Scriptures,  is  as  evidently  the  delineation  of  his  own 
finger. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE      PRE-EMINENCE    OF   LOVE. 


"  Now  abide  these  three,  Faith,  Hope,  Charity ;  but  the  greatest  of 
these  is  Charity." 

Such  is  the  triune  nature  of  true  religion,  as  de- 
scribed by  an  inspired  penman  ;  of  that  religion  about 
which  myriads  of  volumes  have  been  written,  and  so 
many  controversies  have  been  agitated.  How  short 
and  how  simple  the  account ;  within  how  narrow  a 
compass  does  it  lie  ;  and  how  easily  understood,  might 
one  have  expected,  would  have  been  a  subject  expressed 
in  terms  so  familiar  as  these.  This  beautiful  verse  has 
furnished  the  arts  with  one  of  their  most  exquisite  sub- 
jects :  poets  have  sung  the  praises  of  faith,  hope,  and 
charity  ;  the  painter  has  exhibited  the  holy  three  in  all 
the  glowing  colours  of  his  pencil ;  and  the  sculptor  has 
given  them  in  the  pure  and  almost  breathing  forms  of 
his  marble  ;  while  the  orator  has  employed  them  as  the 
ornaments  of  his  eloquence.  But  our  orators,  poets, 
sculptors,  and  painters,  have  strangely  misunderstood 
them,  and  too  often  proved  that  they  knew  nothing  of 
them  but  as  the  abstractions  of  their  genius  :  what  they 
presented  to  the  eye  were  mere  earthly  forms,  which 
bore  no  resemblance  to  these  divine  and  spiritual 
graces :  and  multitudes  have  gazed,  with  admiration 
kindling  into  rapture,  on  the  productions  of  the  artist. 


202 

who  at  the  same  time  had  no  taste  for  the  virtues  de- 
scribed by  the  Apostle.     Religion  is  a  thing  essentially 
different  from  a  regard  to  classic  elegance  ;  not  indeed 
that  it  is  opposed  to  it,  for,  as  it  refines  the  heart,  it  may 
be  supposed  to  exert  a  favourable  influence  on  the  un- 
derstanding, and  by  correcting  the  moral  taste,  to  give 
a  still  clearer  perception  of  the  sublime  and  the  beau- 
tiful.    It  is  greatly  to  be  questioned,  however,  whether 
religion  has  not  received  more  injury  than  benefit  from 
the  fine  arts  ;  whether  men  have  not  become  carelessly 
familiar  with  the  more  awful  realities  of  truth,  by  the 
exhibition  of  the  poet,  the  painter,  and  the  engraver  ; 
and  whether  they  have  not  mistaken  those  sensibilities 
which  have  been  awakened  by  a  contemplation  of  the 
more  tender  and  touching  scenes  of  revelation,  as  de- 
scribed upon  the  canvass  or  the  marble,  for  the  emo- 
tions of  true  piety.     Perhaps  the  "  Paradise  Lost"  has 
done  very  little  to  produce  any  serious  concern  to  avoid 
everlasting  misery ;  "  The  Descent  from  the  Cross" 
by  Rubens,  or  the  "  Transfiguration"  by  Raphael,  as 
little,  to  draw  the  heart  to  the  great  objects  of  Chris- 
tianity-     Innumerable  representations,  and  many  of 
them  very  splendid  productions  too,  have  been  given  of 
Faith,  Hope,   and   Charity;  and  doubtless  by  these 
means  many  kindly  emotions  have   been  called  for 
awhile  into  exercise,  which,  after  all,  were  nothing  but 
a  transient  effect  of  the  imagination  upon  the  feelings. 
It  is  of  vast  consequence  that  we  should  recollect  that 
no  affections  are  entitled  to  the  character  of  religion, 
but  such  as  are  excited  by  a  distinct  perception  of  re- 
vealed truth.     It  is  not  the  emotion  awakened  by  a 
picture  presented  to  the  eye,  nor  by  a  sound  addressed 
to  the  ear,  but  by  the  contemplation  of  a  fact,  or  a 
statement,  laid  before  the  mind,  that  constitutes  piety. 
We  now  proceed  to  the  subject  of  this  chapter. 

Faith  is  the  belief  of  testimony,  accompanied,  if  the 
testimony  be  delivered  by  a  living  individual,  by  a  dis- 
position to  dct)end  upon  his  veracity  ;  and,  if  it  relate 
to  something  m  which  we  are  interested,  with  an  ex- 
pectation of  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise.     In  refer- 


203 

ence  to  spiritual  things,  it  means  a  firm  persuasion  of 
the   truth  of  what  God  has   revealed  in  his  word. 
"  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen :"  or,  as  the  passage  is  ren- 
dered by  some,   "  Faith  is  the  confidence  of  things 
hoped  for,  the  conviction  of  things  not  seen."     It  is  a 
belief,  not  only  that  the  Bible  is  true,  but  of  the  truth 
contained  in  the  Bible  :  it  is  not  merely  a  perception  of 
the  evidences  of  Christianity,  as  a  divine  revelation,  but 
also  a  perception  of  the  truth  of  its  doctrines.     General 
faith,  means  a  belief  of  all  that  God  has  revealed  in  the 
Scriptures,  whether  it  be  invitation  or  promise,  com- 
mand or  threatening,  prophecy  or  history  ;  and  it  is  this 
that  the  Apostle  describes  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.     Faith  in  Christ,  or  justifying 
faith,  relates  to  that  part  of  the  divine  word  which  tes- 
tifies concerning  the  person  and  work  of  the  Redeemer. 
Saving  belief  takes  into  its  view  everything  contained  in 
the  Word  oi'  God,  but  its  special  object  is  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  as  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  :  just  as  the  eye  of  a  condemned  criminal,  at  the 
place  of  execution,  beholds  the  assembled  multitude, 
the  fatal  tree,  and  the  messenger  whom  he  sees  hasten- 
ing with  the  reprieve  ;  but  it  is  on  the  latter  that  his 
view  is  fixed  with  the  greatest  steadiness  and  delight. 
Faith  in  Christ,  then,  is  a  full  persuasion  of  the  truth 
of  the  glorious  Gospel  concerning  Him,  accompanied 
by  a  full  confidence  in  his  veracity,  and  an  expectation 
of  the  fulfilment  of  his  word.     It  is  not  a  mere  notion, 
a  purely  intellectual  act ;  but  certainly  implies  an  ex- 
ercise of  the  will.     It  is  the  belief  of  something  spoken 
by  a  living  person,  and  necessarily  involves  a  confidence 
in  his  veracity ;  it  is  something  interesting  to  us,  and 
must  contain  expectation.     Hence  it  is  represented  by 
the  Apostle  as  synonymous  with  the  act  of  committing 
the  soul  into  the  hands  of  Christ.     "  I  know  whom  I 
have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  to  him."  If  it  were  a  purely 
intellectual  act,  how  could  it  be  the  subject  of  com- 


204 

S  V 

■mand  or  the  matter  of  duty  ? — ^For  can  that  which  is 
exclusively  mental  contain  either  moral  good  or  evil  1 
If  faith  be  purely  intellectual,  must  not  unbelief,  its  op- 
posite, be  the  same  1  But  it  is  said,  that  as  the  disposi- 
tion influences  the  judgment,  and  leads  to  either  faith 
or  unbelief,  according  to  the  state  of  the  heart,  the  mo- 
rs^ excellence  of  one,  and  the  turpitude  of  the  other, 
arises  from  its  cause.  But  is  not  the  Scripture  most 
explicit  in  its  condemnation  of  unbelief,  as  evil  in  itself; 
and  in  its  commendation  of  faith,  as  morally  excellent  1 
The  question  is  not  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  term 
faith,  as  employed  by  metaphysicians,  but  as  employed 
by  the  Apostles ;  and  this  meaning  can  be  gathered 
only  from  their  writings,  in  which  many  terms  are  em- 
»ployed  with  a  signification  somewhat  different  to  that 
in  which  they  are  employed  in  ordinary  discourse. 
Justification,  for  instance,  in  reference  to  ordinary  af- 
fairs, means  the  act  of  declaring  an  accused  person  to 
be  innocent  of  the  charge  brought  against  him ;  but, 
as  the  term  is  used  by  the  sacred  writers,  means  no- 
thing more  than  treating  a  person  acknowledged  to  be 
guilty,  as  righteous,  for  the  sake  of  the  righteousness 
of  Christ. 

Faith  is  not  that  which  constitutes  the  ground  of  our 
acceptance  with  God,  but  which  places  us  upon  that 
ground  ;  it  is  not  our  justifying  righteousness,  but  that 
which  unites  us  to  Christ,  and  appropriates  his  righte- 
ousness to  ourselves.  It  is  true  that  a  different  view 
seems  to  be  given  by  the  Apostle,  when  he  says,  quoting 
the  Old  Testament  expression,  "  Abraham  believed 
God,  and  it  was  counted  to  him  for  righteousness."  It 
would  seem  from  hence,  and  so  it  has  been  contended, 
that  his  faith  was  accepted  in  lieu  of  his  obedience,  as 
the  matter  of  his  righteousness,  and  the  ground  of  his 
acceptance  with  God.  But  a  more  correct  translation 
of  the  passage  will  rectify  this  mistake,  and  prevent 
what  must  be  considered  a  fundamental  error  on  the 
very  important  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  "  Abra- 
ham believed  God,  and  it  was  reckoned  to  him  '  to,' 


205 

*  in  ordertd,'  or  '  towards,'  his  justification."*  It  is  not, 
then,  for  our  faith,  but  by  it,  that  we  are  justified  :  faith, 
as  an  act  df  ours,  is  no  more  the  meritorious  ground  of 
our  justification  than  any  other  of  our  performances  ; 
for,  if  it  were,  we  should  still  be  justified  by  works, — as 
faith  is  as  much  a  work  as  penitence.  The  Apostle  is 
sufficiently  explicit  on  this  head,  where  he  says,  "  But 
now  the  righteousness  of  God  without  law  is  manifested, 
being  witnessed  by  the  law  and  the.vprophets  ;  even  the 
righteousness  of  God  by  faith  of  Jesus  Christ  unto  all 
and  upon  all  them  that  beheve."  "  To  him  that  work- 
eth  not,  but  believeth  on  him  that  justifieth  the  ungodly, 
his  faith  is  reckoned  towards  justification."  "  By  the 
obedience  of  one  shall  many  be  made  righteous." 
"  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every 
one  that  believeth." 

Hope  is  the  desire  and  expectation  of  those  future 
good  things  which  God  has  promised  in  his  word. 
Faith  believes  the  promise,  hope  desires  its  fulfilment. 
It  is  essential  to  hope,  that  its  object  be  some  good 
thing,  either  supposed,  or  real;  for  no  one  can  desire 
that  which  is  evil,  as  evil :  and  its  object  must  be  some- 
thing future ;  for  who  expects  that  of  which  he  is  al- 
ready in  possession  ?  Desire,  without  expectation,  is 
either  mere  wishing,  or  else  despondency ;  expectation, 
without  desire,  is  either  indifference  or  dread  :  the 
union  of  both  constitutes  hope.  The  object  of  Chris- 
tian hope  is  thus  stated  by  the  Apostles : — "  Beloved, 

*  Great  efforts  have  been  made  by  the  opponents  of  the  imputation 
of  Christ's  righteousness  to  believers  for  their  justification,  and  espe- 
cially by  M'Knight,  to  overturn  this  doctrine,  by  the  aid  of  the  text  we 
are  now  considering.  This  critic  thought  he  had  found  in  this  passage 
a  triumphant  proof  that  our  own  faith,  or  act  of  believing,  and  not 
Christ's  obedience  unto  death,  constitutes  our  justifying  righteousness, 
in  lieu  of  our  own  good  works.  Ft  is  a  little  remarkable  that  so  acute  a 
critic  should  have  overlooked  the  force  of  the  Greek  preposition  {ti^,) 
not  only  as  established  by  other  scholars,  but  by  himself:  for  in  his  pre- 
liminary Essay  on  the  meaning  of  Greek  Particles,  which  he  has  pre- 
fixed to  his  Exposition  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  although  he  gives 
fourteen  different  but  harmonious  renderings  of  this  preposition,  the 
meaning  of  "  for,"  or,  "in  lieu  of,"  has  no  place.  We  have  "  con- 
cerning," "  in  order  to,"  "  towards,"  but  not  "  for:"  and  yet  he  bns 
given  it  this  meaning  in  the  text. 

19 


206 

now  are  we  the  sons  of  God  ;  and  it  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear what  we  shall  be,  but  we  know  that  when  he  shall 
appear  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he 
is  ;  and  every  man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him"  [in 
Christ]  "  purifieth  himself,  even  as  he  is  pure."  Paul 
represents  it  as  that  which  the  whole  rational  creation 
has  groaned  after,  ever  since  the  entrance  of  sin  into 
the  world.  "  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  pre- 
sent time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed  in  us.  For  the  earnest  expecta- 
tion of  the  creature  waiteth  for  the  manifestation  of  the 
sons  of  God.  For  the  creature  was  made  subject  to 
vanity,  not  willingly,  but  by  reason  of  him  who  hath 
subjected  the  same  in  hope,  because  the  creature  itself 
also  shall  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption 
into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  For 
we  know  that  the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travail- 
eth  in  pain  together  until  now.  And  not  only  they, 
but  ourselves  also,  which  have  the  first-fruits  of  the  Spi- 
rit, even  we  ourselves  groan  within  ourselves,  waiting 
for  the  adoption,  to  wit,  the  redemption  of  the  body. 
For  we  are  saved  by  hope  :  bul?  hope  that  is  seen  is  not 
hope  ;  for  what  a  man  seeth,  why  doth  he  yet  hope  for  ? 
But  if  we  hope  for  that  we  see  not,  then  do  we  with 
patience  wait  for  it."* 

*  Rom.  viii.  18 — 25.  This  passage  has  been  thought  to  contain  in- 
explicable difficulties,  and  to  liavc  been  in  the  mind  of  the  Apostle 
Peter  when  he  spoke  of  the  things  hard  to  be  understood  in  the  writinj^ 
of  Paul.  Upon  this  text  some  fauve  raised  the  benevolent,  but,  as  it 
strikes  me,  the  groundless,  hypothr^is  of  tbc  resurrection  of  the  brute 
creation.  If  we  are  willing  to  be  guided  by  the  generally  acknowledged 
canon  of  interpretation,  of  explaining  adifficult  passage  by  the  context, 
we  shall  find  a  light  which  will  conduct  us  through  the  intricacies  of 
this  text,  and  illuminate  our  course  as  we  proceed.  If  wc  examine  the 
context,  we  shall  find,  both  from  what  precedes  and  whtit  follows,  that 
the  Apostle  is  speaking  of  the  future  happiness  of  the  righteous.  The 
passage  is  introduced  thus  :  *'  /  reckon  that  the  tujferings  of  this  present 
time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in 
lu;"  then  follows  thA  expression,  "  for  the  earnest  expectation  of  the 
creature  waiteth  for  the  numifestation  cf  the  sons  of  God ;"  or,  as  it  might 
be  rendered,  "  looketh  for  the  revelation  of  the  sons  of  God;'''  i.  e.  the 
glory  to  be  revealed,  of  which  he  had  just  spoken.  Next  comes  a  pa- 
renthetical description  of  the  present  earthly  and  temporal  condition  of 
the  moral  creation,  and  bow  it  was  brought  into  this  condition.    "  For 


207 

Christian  hope  is  not  a  mere  feeble  and  fluctuating 
expectation  of  eternal  happiness,  partaking  more  of  the 
nature  of  uncertamty  than  of  confidence ;  for  it  is,  by 

the  creature  was  made  stthject  to  vanity ;"  t.  e.  to  the  misery  of  this 
present  world,  terminating  in  death  ;  "  not  loUlingly,"  not  on  account 
of  their  own  personal  transgression,  "  but  by  him  who  hath  subjected  the 
same;'''  i.  e.  Adam,  their  natural  root  and  federal  head.  The  expression, 
"  in  hope,^'  should  be  taken  from  the  end  of  the  twentieth  verse,  and 
placed  at  the  commencement  of  the  twenty-first;  the  conjunction  {on) 
should  be  translated  "  that,"  instead  of  "  because ;"  and  the  twenty- 
first  verse,  connected  with  the  nineteenth,  allowing  for  the  intervening 
parenthesis,  would  thus  read ;  "  The  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature 
lookethfor  the  revelation  of  the  sons  of  God ;  in  hope  that  the  creature  shall 
be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption ;"  t.  e.  death ;  to  which  the 
Apostle  afterwards  opposes"  the  redemption  of  the  body,"  or  the  resur- 
rection into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  "  For  wc 
know  that  the  whole  creation,^''  or  every  rational  creature,  "  groanethand 
travaileth  in  pain  together  until  noto.  Jind  not  only  they ;  i  e.  the  whole 
heathen  world  ;  "  but  ourselves,"  the  believers  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
"  who  have  received  the  first-fruits  of  the  Spirit,  groan  within  ourselves, 
waiting  for  the  adoption,  namely,  the  redemption  of  our  body," — the  resur- 
rection, and  consequent  full  revelation,  of  our  dignity  and  immortal 
glory  as  the  sons  of  God. 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  this  passage,  in  which  the  Apostle,  to  give  im- 
portance to  the  subject  of  future  glory,  represents  it  as  the  object  of 
longing  desire  to  the  whole  rational  creation,  the  various  tribes  of  which 
are  exhibited  as  lifting  up  their  heads  from  beneath  the  bondage  of  mi- 
sery and  death,  and  directifig  an  exploring  eye  and  eager  hope  towards 
IMMORTALITY ;  33  that  alone  which  could  relieve  their  sorrows,  and 
satbfy  their  desires.  They  knew  not  with  certamty  that  there  was  such 
a  state  ;  their  notions  were  obscure  and  fluctuating  ;  it  was  rather  a 
wish  than  a  belief :  but  it  was  that  which  they  may  be  truly  said  to  have 
groaned  after,  as  what  alone  could  compensate  for  the  sorrows  ar\,d  the 
brevity  of  human  life.  It  is  no  objection  to  this  view  of  the  passage, 
to  say  that  the  heathen  could  be  scarcely  sai'l,  in  their  state  of  igno- 
rance, to  hope  to  be  delivered  "  from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God  :"  for  things  are  frequently  set  forth 
by  the  sacred  writers,  not  as  they  are  actually  contemplated  by  the  per- 
sons in  connexion  with  whom  they  are  introduced,  but  as  they  are  in 
themselves.  Thus,  Christ  is  called  the  "desire  of  all  nations  ,"  not 
that  all  nations  really  desired  him,  but  desired  happiness,  which  his  ad- 
vent alone  could  introduce.  So,  in  this  case,  every  creature  longs  for 
that  immortality,  or  future  state  of  hnppiness,  which  is  in  itself,  though 
not  contemplated  as  such  by  them,  the  glorious  revelation  of  the  sons 
or  God.  This  most  striking  and  beautiful  passage  has  no  reference  to 
the  brute  creation,  as  groaning  under  the  efiects  of  man's  sin,  and  from 
which  they  will  be  delivered  by  a  resurrection  ;  no  reference  to  any 
physical  change  to  be  produced  during  the  Millennium  in  the  material 
world,  now  by  a  bold  figure  represented  as  burdened  and  pained  by  hu- 
man guilt ;  for  what  has  this  to  do  with  the  context,  or  with  the  design 
of  the  Apostle,  which  is  to  comfort  believers  under  the  sufferings  of  this 
mortal  state  ?  but  U  relates  to  that  glory,  honour,  and  eternal  Ufe, 


208 

a  beautiful  figure  of  speech,  called  a  sure  and  stedfast 
anchor  ;  and  in  other  places,  without  a  figure,  it  is  call- 
ed a  lively  hope,  a  good  hope,  and  a  confident  one ; 
and  we  are  also  admonished  to  go  on  to  the  full  ass-ur- 
ance  of  hope :  expressions,  especially  the  last,  which 
amount  to  the  highest  degree  of  confident  and  trium- 
phant expectation.  Many  Christians  seem  to  err  on 
this  subject,  by  supposing  that  the  grace  of  which  we 
are  now  speaking,  means  nothing  more  than  a  state  of 
mind,  partaking  of  so  much  doubt,  as  leaves  them  very 
little  above  the  level  of  absolute  despondency.  Hope 
must  ever  be  in  proportion  to  our  faith  ;  if  the  latter  be 
weak,  the  former  will  inevitably  be  so  too. 

It  will  be  perceived,  that  although  these  three  graces 
are,  in  some  respects,  very  different,  yet  there  are 
others  in  which  they  have  points  of  strong  resemblance. 
Faith  has  something  of  the  expectation  of  hope,  and 
hope  something  of  the  desire  of  love.  Hope  touches 
faith  at  the  point  of  expectation  ;  love  touches  hope  at 
the  point  of  desire  :  and  thus,  like  the  colours  of  the 
rainbow,  maintain  their  distinction,  while,  at  the  same 
time,  they  soften  down  into  each  other  by  almost  insen- 
sible degrees. 

But  how  are  we  to  understand  the  Apostle,  when  he 
says,  "  there  remain  these  three  ?"  He  here  alludes  to 
the  miraculous  operations  of  the  primitive  church,  and 
contrasts  with  their  transient  existence  the  permanent 
continuance  in  the  Christian  church  of  these  cardinal 
virtues.  Miracles  were  introduced  to  establish  the 
credibility  of  the  Gospel  testimony,  and  having  delivered 
their  evidence,  retired  for  ever ;  but  faith,  and  hope, 
and  love,  are  to  remain  as  the  very  essentials  of  true 
religion.  Particular  forms  of  church  government  are 
only  the  attire  which  piety  wears,  or  the  habitation  in 
which  it  dwells ;  but  these  graces  are  the  body,  soul,  and 

which  God  has  promised  to  them  that  love  him  ;  in  reference  to  which 
he  so  sublimely  affirms,  "  Our  lif^ht  afHiction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment, 
workcth  out  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 
The  view  here  giveii  is  that  which  is  taken  also  by  Uamqiond  and 
M'Kni{;bt. 


209 

spirit,  of  vital  religion.  When  these  are  no  longer  to 
be  found  on  earth,  godliness  may  be  said  to  be  retired 
and  gone. 

But  are. these  the  only  Christian  virtues  which  have 
outlived  the  age  of  miracles,  and  which  are  destined  still 
to  live  and  flourish  on  the  earth  1  Certainly  not.  Peni- 
tence, temperance  ;  yea,  whatsoever  things  are  true  ; 
whatsoever  things  are  honest;  whatsoever  things  are 
just ;  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  ;  whatsoever  things 
are  of  good  report; — are  as  permanent  and  as  strong  in 
their  obligations,  as  faith,  and  hope,  and  love  :  but  these 
three  either  represent,  or  imply,  or  excel,  all  others. 
They  are  the  main  trunk,  from  which  all  others  issue 
as  the  branches,  and  by  which  they  are  supported. 

"  Now  abideth  faith,  hope,  charity;  but  the  greatest 
of  these  is  charity  !"  Love  among  the  Christian  virtues 
is,  as  poets  have  described  Gabriel  among  archangels,  a 
seraph  loftier  than  all  the  seraph  train.  But  we  are  not 
to  suppose  that  it  was  the  Apostle's  intention  to  depre- 
ciate the  value  and  importance  of  the  other  two.  What 
can  be  more  important  and  necessary  than  the  faith  by 
which  we  are  united  to  Christ,  and  justified  in  the  sight 
of  God ;  by  which  we  purify  our  hearts  and  overcome 
the  world?  Turn  to  the  eleventh  chapter  to  the  He- 
brews, where  the  sacred  writer  seems  to  conduct  you 
into  the  temple  of  Christianity;  and  after  exhibiting  the 
names,  and  the  statues,  and  the  recorded  deeds,  of  the 
heroes  of  the  church,  and  displaying  before  you  the 
spoils  they  have  won  in  the  battles  of  the  Lord,  says  to 
you,  "  Behold  the  triumphs  of  faith !"  Faith  is  the  means 
of  love :  hence  said  the  Apostle,  "  Faith,  which  worketh 
by  love."  Nor  could  it  be  his  intention  to  depreciate 
hope,  which  is  called,  "the  anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sure 
and  stedfast,  which  entereth  into  that  within  the  veil :" 
of  which  it  is  said,  "  we  are  saved  by  hope  ;"  and  every 
man  that  hath  this  hope,  "  purifieth  himself,  even  as  he 
is  pure." 

Much  less  are  we  warranted,  from  this  expression, 
to  select  love,  as  the  exclusive  object  of  our  pursuit,  and 
to  cultivate  it  to  the  neglect  of  the  other  two.  Separate 
19* 


210 

from  them  it  can  have  no  existence.  Any  attempt  to 
build  it  up  without  them,  is  like  the  eflfort  to  raise  a  su- 
perstructure without  a  foundation.  "  Md  to  your  faith, 
brotherly  kindness  and  charity,"  says  the  Apostle.  It 
is  only  as  we  believe  the  testimony  of  God's  love  to  us, 
which  is  contained  in  the  Gospel,  that  we  can  possess 
Christian  charity  to  our  fellow-men. 

What  the  Apostle  means  is,  that  there  are  some  views 
of  love,  in  which  it  must  be  allowed  to  possess  a  higher  de- 
gree of  moral  excellence  than  either  faith  or  hope. 

1.  It  is  the  END  which  faith  and  hope  are  the  means  of 
producing.  Love  is  what  might  be  called  an  ultimate 
virtue  ;  but  faith  and  hope  subordinate  ones.  Justifica- 
tion itself  is  but  part  of  the  divine  means  for  bringing  the 
80ul  of  man  into  a  state  of  moral  perfection.  The  uhi- 
mate  end  to  be  obtained  by  redemption  is  the  restora- 
tion of  the  image  of  God  to  the  human  spirit ;  and  par- 
don is  the  introductory  and  subsidiary  means.  Hence 
faith,  by  which  we  are  justified,  is  an  exercise  of  mind, 
which  produces,  and  is  intended  to  produce,  in  us  a  con- 
formity to  the  divine  character.  It  is  not  a  grace  which 
terminates  in  itself,  without  being  calculated  or  designed 
to  originate  and  support  any  thing  else,  which  is  the 
case  with  love.  Sanctity  is  the  end  of  truth:  so  our 
Lord  teaches  us — "  Sanctify  them  by  the  truth."  The 
truth  is  received  into  the  mind  by  faith,  that  it  may  im- 
part sanctity,  which  includes  love.  Similar  remarks 
will  apply  to  hope,  of  which  it  is  said,  "  Every  man  that 
hath  tins  hope  in  him  purifieth  himself."  Christian 
cTiarity,  then,  attains  this  eminence  by  being  the  ulti- 
mate virtue,  to  which  the  other  two  refer.  It  is  that 
moral  condition  of  the  soul,  which  it  is  the  aim  and  pur- 
pose of  all  things  to  produce. 

2.  Ijove  is  a  social  grace,  while  faith  and  hope  are  ex- 
crcised  in  reference  to  ourselves.  We  believe  and  hope, 
with  an  innncdiate  regard  to  our  own  happiness ;  but  in 
the  exercise  of  love,  we  regard  the  happiness  of  man- 
kind. Christian  charity  is  a  constant  efllux  of  benevo- 
lent feeling,  from  the  pure  fountain  of  a  heart  devoted  to 
the  well-being  of  our  species ;  faith  and  hope  arc  the 


211 

channels  by  -which  we  receive  the  streams  of  peace  and 
joy,  from  the  fulness  of  God.  By  the  latter,  we  are 
recipients  of  happiness ;  by  the  former  we  are  its  distri- 
butors :  by  believing,  we  rejoice ;  by  loving,  we  awaken 
the  joys  of  others :  by  one,  we  become  the  heirs  of 
salvation,  who  are  ministered  to  by  angels  ;  by  the  other, 
we  become  ministering  angels  in  our  turn.  What  a 
philanthropist  must  that  man  be,  who  cultivates,  and 
carries  to  even  a  tolerable  perfection,  the  disposition  so 
beautifully  described  in  this  chapter,  and  who  displays 
all  its  properties  in  his  intercourse  with  society :  how 
must  such  an  individual  bless  all  with  whom  he  has  to 
do ;  as  he  pursues  his  holy  career,  sorrow  is  alleviated, 
care  is  mitigated,  want  supplied,  wickedness  reformed 
by  his  efforts :  the  groans  of  creation  are  hushed,  and 
the  tears  of  humanity  wiped  away,  by  his  divine 
charity ;  and  he  becomes,  in  his  measure,  like  that  hea- 
venly visitant  in  our  world,  of  whom  it  is  said,  "He  went 
about  doing  good." 

Survey  with  admiration  and  delight  the  mighty  ope- 
rations, and  the  splendid  achievements,  of  this  powerful 
and  benevolent  principle,  as  they  are  to  be  seen  within, 
and  only  within,  the  hallowed  pale  of  Christianity. 
What  are  all  the  numerous  and  diversified  institutions 
in  our  own  land,  where  houseless  poverty  has  found  a 
home  ;  craving  hunger,  a  supply ;  forsaken  infancy,  a 
protector;  helpless  age,  a  refuge ;  ignorance,  an  instruc- 
tor ;  penitence,  a  comforter  ;  virtue  a  defence ; — but 
the  triumphs  and  glories  of  love  1  What  are  all  those 
sublime  combinations  of  human  energies,  property,  and 
influence,  which  have  been  formed  for  the  illumination, 
reformation,  and  salvation  of  the  human  race  ?  what 
Bible  Societies,  Missionary  Societies,  Tract  Societies, 
Anti-slavery  Societies,  Peace  Societies,— but  the  mighty 
monuments  of  that  love,  "  which  seeketh  not  her  own, 
and  is  kind  ]"  What  are  the  tears  of  commiseration, 
which  flow  for  human  sorrows,  but  the  drops  that  fall 
from  the  eye  of  love  1  What  the  joy  that  is  excited  by 
the  sight  of  happiness,  but  the  smiles  of  love  ?  What 
was  it  that  made  the  great  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  will- 


212 

ing,  not  only  to  bear  any  accumulation  of  suffering,  in- 
dignity, and  reproach,  but  to  pour  out  his  blood  as  a 
libation  for  others,  and  even  to  be  accursed  from  Christ 
for  his  kinsmen,  and  mankind  in  general  1 — Love  ! 
What  is  it  that  renders  the  modern  missionary  willing 
to  go  into  perpetual  exile,  from  the  land  of  his  fathers 
and  of  his  birth,  to  spend  the  future  years  of  his  life, 
and  find,  at  last,  a  grave  amidst  the  sands  of  Africa,  or 
the  snows  of  Greenland  ;  willing  to  exchange  the  socie- 
ty and  polished  intercourse  of  Europeans,  for  savages, 
whose  minds  are  brutishly  ignorant,  and  whose  man- 
ners are  disgustingly  offensive  ;  willing  to  quit  the  land 
of  Sabbaths,  and  of  Bibles,  and  of  churches,  for  regions 
over  which  the  demon  of  superstition  has  extended  his 
horrid  sway,  and  beneath  whose  yoke  nothing  is  to  be 
seen,  but  orgies,  in  which  lust  and  cruelty  struggle  for 
pre-eminence  ] — Love  !  What  was  it  that  breathed  into 
the  heart  of  Howard  that  spirit  which  so  filled  and  fired 
his  imagination  with  visions  of  human  misery,  and  which 
brought  from  so  many  dungeons  the  plaintive  cry, 
**  Come  over  and  help  us !"  that  he  could  no  longer 
rest  in  his  own  house,  or  in  his  own  country,  but  tra- 
velled, again  and  again,  across  the  breadth  of  Europe, 
in  quest  of  wretchedness  ;  descending  into  the  captive's 
cell,  that  he  might  weigh  his  fetters,  and  measure  his 
narrow  apartment,  and  examine  his  food,  to  ascertain 
whether  there  was  not  more  of  misery  in  his  hapless 
and  forgotten  lot,  than  justice  demanded  for  the  punish- 
ment of  his  crime  ;  who  inhaled  the  infected  atmos- 
phere of  the  lazaretto,  to  grapple  with  the  plague — that 
fell  destroyer  of  the  human  race,  to  approach  which 
seemed  to  be  courting  death?  It  was  Love  that  formed 
the  character  of  that  illustrious  man,  and  presented 
him  to  the  notice  and  admiration  of  the  civilized  world. 
What  was  it  that  gave  courage,  confidence,  and  self- 
denial,  to  that  EXTRAORDiNAJRV  WOMAN,  who  Ventured 
among  the  furies  of  Newgate,  where,  if  she  had  not 
cause  to  fear  that  assassins  would  attempt  her  life,  she 
must  have  calculated  upon  finding  a  sort  of  demons, 
whose  malignity,  excited  by  the  purity  and  virtue  which 


213 

seemed  to  set  in  stronger  light,  by  the  power  of  con- 
trast, their  own  vices,  would  vent  its  rage  on  the  angel 
form  which  had  disturbed  them  1  If  ever  the  form  and 
the  beauty  of  charity  were  seen  in  one  of  our  species, 
it  was  in  Mrs.  Fry  when  she  entered  the  cells  of  our 
metropolitanrprison,  and  called  their  vicious  and  loath- 
some inmates  round  her,  to  be  instructed  and  reformed. 
And  what  is  it  that  makes  ten  thousand  holy  men  and 
women  employ  themselves  continually  in  all  kinds  of 
self-denying  exertions,  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  to  re- 
lieve the  miserable,  to  reform  the  wicked  1  These,  O 
heavenly  Charity  !  are  thy  works,  the  displays  of  thy 
excellences,  and  proofs  of  thy  pre-eminence  ! 

3.  It  is  a  distinguished  excellence  of  love,  that  it  is  a 
likeness  to  God.  We  are  not  at  all  surprised  that  the  phi- 
losopher to  whom  the  question  was  proposed,  "  What 
is  God  ?"  should  have  requested  a  day  to  prepare  his 
answer  ;  and  when  that  was  expired,  should  have  asked 
a  second,  and  a  third,  and  should  have  at  length  con- 
fessed to  the  reproving  monarch  who  proposed  the  que- 
ry, that  the  more  he  examined  the  more  he  was  confoun- 
ded ;  and  the  farther  he  penetrated,  the  deeper  and  deeper 
he  seemed  plunging  into  darkness  and  mystery.  Reve- 
lation has  come  to  the  aid  of  feeble  reason,  and,  com- 
pared with  the  latter,  has  thrown  a  blaze  of  radiance 
on  the  all-impor*ant  subject :  and  yet,  with  the  light  of 
truth  shining  around  us,  so  little  do  we  understand  of 
God,  that  he  may  be  said,  as  it  respects  us,  to  "  make 
darkness  his  pavilion  ;"  for  "  who  by  searching  can  find 
out  God — who  can  find  out  the  Almighty  to  perfection?' 
Of  his  essence  we  know  nothing  :  of  his  eternity,  om- 
niscience, and  omnipotence,  next  to  nothing,  as  to  any 
comprehension  of  them.  His  moral  perfections  are,  it 
is  true,  more  easily  understood  by  us ;  but  as  these  are 
all  infinite,  it  is  but  little  even  of  these  that  we  can  un- 
derstand. "  He  is  a  rock,  his  way  is  perfect,  without 
iniquity,  just  and  right  is  he."  Inflexible  justice,  im- 
maculate purity,  inviolable  truth,  unimpeachable  fidelity, 
belong  to  him ;  but  if  this  were  all  the  view  the  Scrip- 
tures gave  us  of  his  attributes,  if  the  delineation  of  the 


214 

divine  character  stopped  here,  how  much  would  be 
wanting  to  the  sinner's  comfort  1  Can  the  trembling  and 
condemned  criminal  take  much  pleasure  in  contempla- 
ting the  power,  the  justice,  and  the  truth  of  the  judge, 
who  holds  his  destiny  in  his  hand, — at  least  till  he  knows 
whether  that  judge  have  mercy  also  in  his  heart,  and  in 
his  prerogative  1  And  as  little  would  it  comfort  us  to 
know  all  the  other  attributes  of  Deity,  if  we  would  not 
exultingly  exclaim,  in  the  language  of  the  Apostle, 
"  God  is  Love  !"  Sublime  and  heart-reviving  decla- 
ration !  never  was  anything  uttered  more  calculated  to 
delight  the  soul  of  man.  Such  a  view  of  Deity  is  pecu- 
liar to  revelation.  Idolatry,  in  all  her  strange  devices, 
in  all  her  image-making  processes,  never  conceived  of 
such  a  God :  power,  wisdom,  justice,  truth,  have  all  re- 
ceived their  iappropriate  symbols  of  divinity,  and  have 
been  worshipped  under  material  forms,  but  benevolence 
had  no  statue,  no  temple,  no  priest.  It  was  too  pure  a 
conception  for  the  human  heart,  and  too  elevated  an 
idea  for  human  reason.  "  God  is  love !"  This  refers 
not,  of  course,  to  his  essence,  but  to  his  character.  It 
means,  that  benevolence  is  his  whole  moral  character : 
not  only  that  his  nature  is  one  sum  of  infinite  excellence, 
but  that  his  conduct  is  one  mighty  impulse  to  that  which 
is  good ;  in  other  words,  that  the  divine  disposition  is  an 
infinite  propensity  to  delight  in  happiness,  as  already  ex- 
isting, or  to  produce  it  where  it  does  not  exist.  But  be 
it  recollected,  that  the  benevolence  of  God  is  the  love 
of  a  governor  or  nder,  and  not  merely  that  of  a  philan- 
thropist, or  a  father ;  and  who,  in  the  exercise  of  his 
good-will  to  any  j)articular  part,  cannot  sacrifice  the 
welfare  of  the  whole;  and,  consequently,  whose  benevo- 
lence is  not  only  compatible  with  the  exercise  of  retribu- 
tive justice,  but  requires  it. 

Such  is  the  disposition  of  that  divine  mind,  to  which, 
by  Christian  love,  we  are  conformed :  that  benevolence 
of  the  Deity,  which,  in  its  propensity  to  delight  in  hap- 
piness, and  to  create  it,  makes  him  infinite  in  patience, 
to  bear  with  the  millions  of  crimes  which  daily  insult  and 
provoke  him ;  infinite  in  mercy  to  pardon  the  most  ag- 


215 

gravated  transgressions ;  infinite  in  kindness  to  provide 
for  the  wants  and  comforts  of  his  creatures.  The  high- 
est pre-eminence  in  Christian  love  :  the  richest  gem  in 
its  crown  of  honour,  is  its  resemblance  to  God.  There 
is  nothing  remotely  analagous  to  faith,  or  hope,  in  the 
divine  nature.  He  that  is  omniscient,  cannot  be  said 
to  believe ;  nor  he  that  is  infinitely  blessed,  and  possess- 
ed of  a  divine  fulness,  be  said  to  hope :  but  he  can  and 
does  love.  Resemblance  to  God  is  the  highest  glory  of 
man.  We  should  esteem  it  an  honour  to  bear  a  faint 
impress  of  some  of  the  more  distinguished  of  the  human 
race.  It  would  be  thought  a  high  compliment,  to  have 
it  said  that  our  genius  resembled  that  of  Milton,  and  our 
benevolence  that  of  Howard :  that  our  faith  was  like 
Abraham's,  or  our  meekness  akin  to  that  of  Moses ;  but 
how  much  greater  is  the  distinction  to  bear,  by  love,  the 
image  of  God. 

5.  Love  is  eternal  in  its  duration ;  it  ascends  with  us 
to  the  skies,  to  live  in  our  hearts,  as  the  temper  of  our 
souls,  for  ever  and  ever.  It  is  questioned  by  some, 
whether  the  other  two  graces  will  cease  in  the  celestial 
state.  It  has  been  contended,  that  as  the  glories  of  the 
divine  nature  are  illimitable  and  innumerable,  and  the 
glorified  mind  will  not  attain  to  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
these  at  once,  but  be  continually  receiving  fresh  com- 
munications on  this  vast  theme,  there  must  be  both  faith 
and  hope  in  heaven ;  for  as  we  successively  receive  these, 
we  must  believe  in  the  assurance  of  those  which  are  to 
come,  and  must  perpetually  look  forward  with  expecta- 
tion and  desire.  But  does  not  this  assume  what  cannot 
be  proved — that  our  knowledge  of  God  and  divine 
things  will  be  communicated  in  heaven  by  testimony, 
and  not  be  acquired  by  intuition  1  It  is  not  at  all  neces- 
sary that  our  growing  knowledge,  our  eternally  accu- 
mulating ideas,  should  be  thus  conveyed  to  us ;  for  they 
may  for  aught  we  know,  be  the  reward  of  pleasant  stu- 
dy, or  they  may  flow  into  the  mind,  as  the  ideas  of  sen- 
sation do  into  the  soul,  without  any  effort,  and  may  also 
come  with  all  the  certainty  of  that  intuition  by  which 
we  perceive  the  truth  of  axioms.     To  say  that  this  is 


216 

belief,  is  to  confound  two  things  essentially  distinct, — 
knowledge  and  faith.  So  that  it  does  not  appear  plain, 
that  faith,  in  any  sense  of  the  term,  will  exist  in  heaven. 
But  though  it  could  be  proved  that,  in  some  modification 
of  the  term,  it  would  be  exercised  in  the  celestial  state, 
such  a  belief  would  differ  so  materially  from  that  which 
we  now  possess,  and  by  which  we  are  justified  and 
saved,  that  it  may  with  propriety  be  said,  faith  will  cease 
in  heaven.  All  the  great  objects  to  which  faith  now  re- 
fers are  absent :  we  believe  in  their  existence,  through 
the  report  which  is  made  of  them  in  the  word  of  God  ; 
but  in  heaven  they  will  be  immediately  present  to  the 
senses  of  our  glorified  body,  or  the  perceptive  faculty  of 
our  spirit  made  perfect.  Nor,  as  it  respects  hope,  is  it 
by  any  means  certain  that  this  will  exist  in  the  heavenly 
state  ;  for  although  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  there 
can  be  otherwise  than  a  futurity,  even  in  eternity,  and 
how  there  can  be  a  state  of  mind  otherwise  than  the  de- 
sire and  expectation  of  future  good, — yet,  as  in  hope 
there  is  usually  some  degree  of  doubt  and  uncertainty, 
the  state  of  mind  with  which  glorified  spirits  contemplate 
and  anticipate  future  good,  may  be  an  indubitable  cer- 
tainty, which  excludes  the  restlessness  of  desire,  and  the 
incertitude  of  expectation. 

In  the  hour  of  deatK,  the  believer  closes  the  conflict 
with  his  spiritual  enemies,  enters  a  world  where  no  foe 
shall  ever  exist,  and  where,  of  course,  he  no  longer  needs 
either  defensive  or  aggressive  weapons.  He  takes  off 
the  helmet  of  salvation,  for  hope  is  not  needed  when  he 
is  brought  to  full  possession :  he  lays  aside  the  shield  of 
faith,  for  seeing  and  knowing  have  succeeded  to  believ- 
ing, and  he  will  be  beyond  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked 
one:  the  breastplate  of  sincerity  he  retains,  not  as  a 
weapon,  but  as  an  ornament — not  as  a  means  of  de- 
fence, but  as  a  memorial  of  victory :  his  feet  are  no  long- 
er shod  with  the  preparation  of  the  Gospel  of  peace,  for 
he  will  no  more  have  to  tread  on  the  snares  of  the  de- 
stroyer, nor  be  exposed  to  his  missiles :  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit  which  is  the  word  of  God,  shall  be  sheathed,  and 
hung  with  the  trumpet  in  the  hall :  praying  will  cease, 


217 

where  there  is  no  want  to  be  suppKed — no  care  to  be 
alleviated — no  sin  to  be  forgiven — no  sorrow  to  be  sooth- 
ed :  watchfulness  will  no  more  be  necessary,  where  no 
enemy  is  found,  no  danger  arises :  the  means  of  grace 
will  all  be  useless,  where  grace  is  swallowed  up  in  glory : 
submission  will  never  be  called  for,  where  there  are  no 
trials :  and  even  many  of  the  properties  of  love  itself  will 
seem  to  be  absorbed  in  its  general  principle ;  many  of  its 
modifications  and  operations  will  cease,  amidst  its  eternal 
delight  in  perfect  excellence  and  happiness :  for  there 
can  be  no  forgiveness  of  injuries  where  none  will  be  in- 
flicted ;  no  long  suffering  where  there  is  nothing  to  suf- 
fer; no  concealment  of  faults  where  none  can  be  com- 
mitted ;  no  self-denial  where  there  will  be  nothing  to  try 
us  :  nothing  of  love  will  remain,  nothing  be  exercised, 
but  a  pure  and  unmixed  delight  in  happiness  :  and  how 
should  it  stimulate  us  to  the  exercise  of  mutual  forbear- 
ance and  commiseration  now,  to  consider  that  it  is  the 
only  state  where  these  virtues  can  be  indulged! 


^■ 


M 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


IMPROVEMENT. 


Adopting  the  method  pursued  by  the  old  Divines,  I 
shall  take  up  this  part  of  the  subject  in  the  way  of 
Instruction. 

1.  May  we  not  infer  from  it,  the  divine  origin  of  those 
Scriptures,  which  give  such  a  pre-eminence  to  the  duty 
of  love. 

The  contents  of  the  word  of  God  have  ever  been 
considered,  and  very  justly,  as  a  voucher  for  its  divine 
authority.  The  Bible  is  its  own  witness  :  the  sublimity 
of  its  doctrines,  surpassing  alike  the  invention  and  the 
comprehension  of  the  human  understanding ;  the  har- 
mony of  its  writers  ;  the  grandeur  of  its  style,  the  more 
remarkable  if  we  consider  the  illiterate  character  of 
many  of  those  who  wrote  it ;  the  elevation  and  purity 
of  its  morality,  especially  when  contrasted  with  the 
condition  of  the  whole  world ;  the  view  it  gives  us  of 
the  nature  and  attributes  of  the  Deity,  of  the  character 
of  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  state  of  human  nature,  of  the 
scheme  of  redemption,  of  the  elements  of  evangelical 
piety,  of  the  certainty  and  glory  of  immortality ; — are 
all  the  handwriting  of  Jehovah,  and,  together,  form  this 
illustrious  inscription — "  the  word  of  god."  Where 
is  anything  like  this  among  the  works  of  men  1  Could 
ignorance  have  devised  a  system  so  sublime,  or  depra- 
vity invent  a  scheme  so  holy  1  But  to  go  no  farther 
than  the  subject  we  are  now  considering,  and  which 
may  be  regarded  as  not  only  a  single  precept  of  mora- 


219 

lity,  but  the  spirit  of  the  whole,  is  it  conceivable  that 
such  a  generous  and  self-denying  system  of  duty  would 
have  sprung  from  the  selfishness  of  human  nature  1 
Would  man,  had  he  been  left  to  the  mere  exercise  of 
his  reason,  and  the  impulses  of  his  own  heart,  ever  have 
summed  up  all  morality  and  social  obligation  in  that  one 
word,  LOVE,  and  have  represented  this  as  the  essence 
of  virtue  1  Is  there  anything  analogous  to  this  in  any 
human  system  with  which  we  are  acquainted  1 

Examine  paganism,  both  ancient  and  modern  ;  and 
what  of  this  spirit  do  you  find  in  its  multiform  varieties  1 
Was  benevolence,  as  has  been  already  asked,  ever  em- 
bodied in  an  idol  1  was  a  temple,  a  statue,  or  an  altar, 
ever  raised  to  its  honour  1  The  abstractions  of  wisdom 
and  power,  and  some  few  of  the  sterner  virtues  of  hu- 
man nature,  together  with  many  of  its  sinful  passions, 
obtained  a  niche  in  the  Pantheon  ;  but  such  a  virtue  as 
that  enjoined  by  Paul,  not  only  was  not  worshipped,  but 
would  have  been  despised,  by  all  classes  of  ancient  idol- 
aters, as  diametrically  opposed  to  those  qualities  in 
which  they  considered  human  greatness  to  consist.  To 
say  nothing  of  that  spirit  of  cruelty  which,  like  a  de- 
mon legion,  possessed,  and  tortured,  and  convulsed,  the 
worshippers  of  Moloch,  even  the  milder  and  classic 
mythology  of  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans,  breathed 
into  its  votaries  no  spirit  of  universal  philanthropy.  The 
patriotism  of  these  nations,  the  chivalrous  self-devoted- 
ness,  which  is  blazoned  with  such  splendour  on  the  page 
of  history,  and  which  kindle  such  enthusiasm  in  the 
youthful  imagination, — what  is  it  but  the  light  of  a  con- 
suming fire  1  The  patriotism  of  Rome,  and  of  Greece, 
in  their  best  and  purest  days,  was  but  a  selfishness  of 
the  most  destructive  kind,  which  would  have  trampled 
down  pure  philanthropy  with  indignant  scorn,  as  a  mean 
and  cowardly  spirit — a  traitor  against  the  absorbing 
glory  of  Athens  or  of  the  Roman  commonwealth. 
Those  proud  and  haughty  patriots  thought  that  the 
world  was  made  for  them,  and  cared  not  what  rights  of 
other  nations  they  invaded,  so  as  they  could  strengthen 
their  own  power ;  nor  what  misery  they  inflicted,  so  as 


220 

they  could  extend  their  own  fame.  Selfishness  the 
most  engrossing  was  the  soul  of  their  system  :  every 
man  considered  himself  as  represented  hy  his  country, 
and,  in  contending  for  the  honour  of  the  latter,  was 
fighting  for  his  own  aggrandisement.  Had  love  been 
the  ascendant  in  those  ages,*  the  world  would  never 
have  been  made  to  He  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  Alexan- 
der, or  of  Caesar. 

And  who  among  the  poets  sang  the  praises  of  uni- 
versal benevolence  ;  who  among  the  legislators  made 
it  the  basis  of  their  morals,  who  among  the  philoso- 
phers expatiated  on  its  glories,  or  laid  the  obUgation  to 
cultivate  it,  upon  the  consciences  of  their  disciples  1 
The  highest  virtue  of  paganism  was  martial  prowess. 
So  heavenly  a  glory  never  shone  upon  it,  as  is  contain- 
ed in  that  one  sentence,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neigh- 
bour as  thyself;"  or  if  any  theory,  distantly  analogous 
to  it,  was  found  there,  it  was  a  borrowed  light,  the  dim 
reflection  of  the  distant  brightness  of  divine  truth. 

And  as  to  modern  paganism,  we  need  not  say  how 
vain  it  is  to  seek  for  universal  love  amidst  the  ferocities 
of  the  American  Indians,  the  murderous  cruelties  of 
the  South  Sea  Islanders,  the  disgusting  selfishness  and 
ridiculous  vanity  of  the  Chinese,  or  the  insulting  and 
degrading  oppressions  of  the  Hindoos. 

Next  turn  your  attention  to  Mohammedanism  ;  and 
in  what  page  of  the  Koran  will  you  find,  we  will  not  say, 
such  a  description,  and  such  an  enforcement,  of  philan- 
thropy as  we  have  in  this  chapter ;  but  where  do  you 
find  a  recognition  of  the  principle  *?  In  all  those  pre- 
tended revelations  from  heaven,  of  which  Gabriel  is  said 
to  have  been  the  bearer,  where  is  there  such  a  descrij)- 
tion  of  Deity  as  this — "  God  is  love  !"  or  such  a  senti- 
ment as  that  which  arises  out  of  it,  "  he  that  dwelleth 
in  love,  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him  !"  So  far 
from  recognizing  this  principle,  Islamism  condemns  and 
forbids  it.  It  enjoins  almsgiving,  it  is  true,  and  gives  it 
a  high  place  amongst  its  virtues,  but  this  is  not  the  same 
as  love,  and  may  be  often  carried  to  a  great  extent 
without  a  particle  of  its  nature.     This  system  of  im- 


221 

posture,  abounding,  as  it  does,  with  minute  and  ridicu- 
lous ceremonies,  and  a  slavish  regard  to  absurd  ri- 
tual observances,  enforces,  by  the  authority  of  its  foun- 
der, the  most  ferocious  and  bloodthirsty  hatred  of  all 
who  do  not  receive  it  in  the  exercise  of  implicit  faith. 
Wars  against  all  infidels  are  not  only  enjoined  in  many 
passages  of  the  Koran,  but  are  declared  to  be  in  a  high 
degree  meritorious  in  the  sight  of  God.  How  com- 
pletely Islamism  has  filled  its  votaries  with  the  most  fe- 
rocious bigotry  and  the  most  merciless  intolerance,  is 
known  by  universal  testimony.  They  everywhere  pour 
insulting  contempt  upon  all  who  are  not  Mussulmans, 
and  feel  a  savage  delight  in  adding  cruelty  to  insult. 
"  The  infidel  dogs,"  is  a  common  appellation  applied  to 
Christians.  The  spirit  of  the  system  is  everywhere 
visible  in  the  absolute  despotism  of  the  governments  of 
those  countries  in  which  it  prevails ;  where  it  is  found, 
the  arts  and  the  sciences  do  not  flourish,  and  liberty 
withers  in  its  shade.  The  flaming  scimeter  of  the  Sultan 
is  its  patron  and  defence;  it  was  propagated  by  the 
sword — it  is  supported  by  the  bow-string,  and  it  is  es- 
sentially and  unalterably  cruel.  Such  is  Islamism :  a 
curse  to  the  world,  a  mystery  in  the  divine  government, 
a  dreadful  obstacle  to  the  spread  of  Christianity,  and  the 
reverse  of  all  that  is  holy  and  beneficent  in  the  glorious 
Gospel  of  the  blessed  God. 

Infidelity,  it  is  true,  has  attempted  an  imitation 
of  this  virtue,  but  infidels  have  had  revelation  to  copy 
from  ;  and  even  with  this  model  before  their  eyes,  have 
produced  a  caricature  instead  of  a  fac  simile.  The  uni- 
versal benevolence  of  this  school  is  at  war  with  the  pri- 
vate affections  and  individual  tenderness :  that  of  Chris- 
tianity, springs  out  of  them,  and  is  founded  upon  them. 
We  contend,  therefore,  that  this  noble,  and  generous, 
and  useful  disposition  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  re- 
vealed truth ;  and  whence,  but  from  heaven,  could  it 
have  proceeded,  and  who  but  Jehovah  either  could  or 
would  have  given  it  the  authority  of  a  law  ?  Whoever 
will  reflect  for  a  moment,  will  be  struck  with  the  singu- 
larity of  the  fact,  that  the  Bible  resolves  the  whole  of 

to* 


222 

practical  religion  into  love  to  God,  and  the  whole  of 
morality  into  love  to  man.  Is  this,  we  ask  again,  the 
work  of  human  invention;  or  does  it  look  like  the  pro- 
duction of  imposture  !  Would  the  selfishness  of  man 
have  devised  such  a  system ;  for  where,  among  all  his 
handy  work,  do  we  find  any  thing  like  it '?  O  no ! — It  is 
part  of  the  superscription  of  heaven — it  is  the  impress  of 
divinity — it  is  the  seal  of  truth. 

2.  We  learn,  that  the  spirit  of  true  religion  is  not  only 
unlike,  but  opposed  to,  the  characters  most  admired  by  the 
people  of  the  world. 

The  character  which  the  historian  loves  to  delineate, 
on  which  he  delights  to  exhaust  the  stores  of  his  genius, 
and  to  lavish  the  richest  colouring  of  his  pencil ;  which 
he  is  most  pleased  to  exhibit  to  the  admiration  of  his 
readers ;  and  in  which,  with  an  eager  sympathy,  those 
readers  take  as  much  delight  as  did  the  author,  perusing 
it  again  and  again,  till  the  soul  glows  with  enthusiasm ; — 
is  not  the  meek  and  virtuous  prince,  who  is  intent  only 
on  the  arts  of  peace,  and  the  internal  welfare  of  his 
kingdom :  no,  but  the  ambitious  hero,  who  fills  the  world 
with  the  fame  of  his  victories,  and  by  the  aid  of  daunt- 
less courage,  consummate  skill,  and  inordinate  lust  of 
dominion,  goes  on  from  conquering  to  conquer :  this  is 
the  man  for  whom  the  admiration  of  posterity  is  claimed ; 
whose  crimes  are  lost  sight  of  in  the  splendour  of  his 
genius,  and  whose  cruelty  is  forgotten  in  the  success 
with  wliich  it  is  followed.  Thus  it  is,  that  under  the 
power  of  a  peculiar  fascination,  demons  are  worshipped 
in  sight  of  the  miseries  they  have  inflicted,  and  within 
hearing  of  the  groans  they  have  extorted,  merely  on  ac- 
count of  the  vast  genius  they  possess,  and  of  their  pow- 
er to  curse  the  children  of  men.  But  the  New  Testa- 
ment lavishes  no  encomiums  on  such  men,  bestows  no 
praise  on  their  deeds,  but  treats  them  as  the  bitterest 
enemies  of  human  happiness.  The  sword  of  conflict 
and  the  laurel  of  victory  are  not  among  the  objects 
which  it  commends  to  our  attention,  but  which  it  de- 
votes to  our  detestation :  the  peacemaker  is  the  charac- 


223 

ter  on  which  it  bestows  all  its  praises,  and  invests  with 
its  richest  honours. 

If  we  descend  from  national  affairs  to  the  more  con- 
fined range  of  social  intercourse,  we  shall  find  the  same 
perversion  of  judgment,  the  same  misconception  of  true 
excellence,  and  the  same  misplaced  admiration.  What 
is  the  character  which  is  usually  most  applauded  in 
fashionable  circles,  and  also  by  the  generality  of  man- 
kind, whether  rich  or  poor  ?  Is  it  not  the  high  spirited 
individual  who  is  quick  to  discern  offence,  and  bold  to 
resent  it ;  who  will  allow  no  one  with  impunity  to  tread 
upon  the  skirt  of  his  dignity,  or  his  right ;  who  is,  per- 
haps, in  some  things,  frank,  generous,  and  affable,  but 
under  this  exterior  conceals  a  proud,  independent  spirit, 
which  can  brook  neither  a  superior  nor  a  rival,  but  is 
ever  aspiring  to  distinction ;  who  is  courteous  but  am- 
bitious ;  who  would  not  willingly  and  intentionally  give 
offence,  but,  having  given  it,  would  feel  himself  for 
ever  disgraced  by  putting  on  the  garment  of  humility, 
and  asking  forgiveness  ;  who  would  give  alms  to  the 
needy,  but  not  precedence  even  to  the  deserving  ; — is 
not  this  the  most  admired  of  the  world's  favourites  ?  Is 
not  revenge  dignified  with  the  name  of  honour,  and 
pride  called  spirit]  In  short,  are  not  the  qualities  gen- 
erally admired  by  men,  of  the  active,  irascible,  and  am- 
bitious kind;  and  are  not  the  meek,  and  gentle,  and  pas- 
sive virtues,  looked  upon  with  disesteem,  and  treated 
with  contempt]  Is  poverty  of  spirit,  is  humility,  is  self 
abasement,  is  the  forgiveness  of  insults,  is  patience  un- 
der provocation,  admired,  applauded,  imitated !  Is  it  to 
the  character  formed  of  these  graces,  that  the  silent 
homage  of  the  heart,  and  the  loud  praises  of  the  tongue, 
are  paid]  Quite  the  contrary.  The  men  who  would 
practise  these  things,  must  make  up  their  minds  to  en- 
dure the  world's  scorn,  and  to  be  treated  as  poor  tame- 
spirited  creatures,  who  deserve  all  the  contumely  they 
receive,  because  of  their  forbearance  in  submitting  to 
it :  and  yet  this  is  the  spirit  of  religion,  for  this  is  the 
temper  of  Jesus.  When  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world,  he  found  it  full  of  the  notion  that  human  glory 


consisted  in  ambition,  pride,  and  resentment ;  the  Jew 
and  the  Gentile  participated  in  the  sentiment,  and  hence 
he  took  particular  pains  to  correct  this  notion,  giving, 
in  his  sermon  on  the  mount,  a  delineation  of  character 
the  very  opposite  of  this.  Indeed,  the  design  of  that 
sermon  was  to  rectify  the  mistakes  then  universally  pre- 
valent on  the  subject  of  character  and  of  happiness, 
and  to  teach  the  world  that  his  disciples  were  to  be  pre- 
eminently distinguished  by  humility,  penitence,  meek- 
ness, purity,  peaceableness,  forgiveness,  thirsting  after 
righteousness ;  these  are  the  qualities  of  a  true  Chris- 
tian ;  and  every  one  who  bears  that  character  must  se- 
dulously cultivate  its  appropriate  dispositions,  and  be 
willing  to  bear  the  ridicule  to  which  they  will  expose 
him.  He  must  never  seek  to  conciliate  the  favour  of 
the  unconverted,  by  imitating  their  spirit,  or  disguising 
his  own  ;  but  bear  their  scorn,  and  wait  with  patience 
for  a  world  where  humility  and  meekness  will  be  ho- 
noured and  rewarded,  and  love,  their  parent  disposition, 
be  crowned  with  glory. 

3.  This  subject  plainly  shows  us,  that  religion  is  «x- 
ceedingly  difficult. 

It  is  a  very  common  supposition,  that  it  is  an  easy 
thing  to  be  a  Christian.  And  if  to  be  a  Christian  were 
nothing  more  than  going  to  a  place  of  worship,  indulg- 
ing in  pious  emotions,  subscribing  to  religious  institu- 
tions, and  professing  certain  religious  opinions,  the  sup- 
position would  be  correct ;  for  nothing  is  more  easy 
than  all  this  :  but  if  the  spirit  of  religion  be  the  dispo- 
sition described  in  this  chapter,  then  must  it  be  obvious 
to  every  one  who  knows  his  own  heart,  that  it  is  the 
most  difficult  thing  in  the  world.  The  Scriptures  every- 
where represent  true  piety  by  terms,  allusions,  and 
figures,  which  imply  the  greatest  effort  and  the  most 
persevering  labour :  hence  we  are  commanded  to 
"  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate ;"  to  "  lay  aside 
every  weight,  and  the  sin  that  doth  most  easily  beset  us  ; 
and  to  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us  ;"  to 
*'  labour  for  the  meat  which  endureth  unto  eternal  life  ;" 
to  "fight  the  good  fight  of  faith  ;"  to  "  mortify  the  deedg 


225 

of  the  body ;"  to  "  crucify  the  flesh,"  What  terms  ! 
what  ideas  !  what  metaphors !  Can  anything  that  is 
easily  accomplished,  require  or  justify  the  use  of  such 
language  1  If  it  were  a  hght  thing  to  be  a  Christian, 
could  the  sacred  writers,  with  any  propriety,  have  era- 
ployed  such  strong  and  very  expressive  figures  ?  No- 
thing, surely,  can  more  impressively  teach  us  the  abso- 
lute and  indispensable  necessity  of  the  most  incessant 
as  well  as  vigorous  effort.  The  course  of  a  sinner  is 
down  hill.  "  Easy,"  says  Virgil,  "  is  the  descent  to 
hell :"  a  transgressor  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  give  him- 
self up  to  the  indulgence  of  his  corruptions,  and  he  will 
slide,  without  effort,  to  perdition.  Not  so  the  saint. 
Heaven,  by  an  appropriate  figure  of  speech,  is  repre- 
sented as  on  a  high  eminence,  which  cannot  be  reached 
without  constant  and  laborious  climbing.  Not  that  all 
this  is  necessary  to  merit  heaven,  but  to  reach  it :  we 
are  justified  by  faith  without  works,  and  become  entitled 
to  eternal  life  exclusively  by  the  righteousness  of  Christ ; 
nor  are  we  to  conceive  of  the  faith  by  which  we  receive 
this  righteousness  as  consisting  of  any  violent  strivings 
of  our  minds,  but  as  a  simple  dependance  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  for  acceptance  with  God :  but  we  are 
speaking  of  the  Christian  temper,  of  practical  religion, 
of  sanctification,  of  going  on  through  all  the  trials  and 
temptations  of  life,  to  the  possession  of  that  crown  of 
glory  which  Christ  has  merited  for  us  ;  and  if  this  be 
easy  work,  there  is  nothing  difficult. 

4.  Religion  is  a  comparatively  rare  thing  among 
men. 

This  is,  indeed,  a  melancholy  and  a  painful  reflec- 
tion ;  for  it  is  saying,  in  other  words,  there  are  but  few 
that  are  saved.  It  is  applying  to  our  own  times  the 
awful  language  employed  by  our  Lord  as  descriptive  of 
the  state  of  things,  in  his  days  upon  earth.  "  Broad 
is  the  way  which  leadeth  to  destruction,  and  many  there 
be  which  go  in  thereat ;  strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow 
is  the  way,  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be 
that  find  it."  Tremendous  and  truly  dreadful  is  the 
idea,  that  the  greatest  part  of  mankind  are  moving  to- 


226 

wards  the  bottomless  pit,  and  sinking  daily  in  crowds 
to  the  miseries  of  perdition.  Such  a  sentiment  ought 
not  to  be  admitted  to  the  mind,  except  upon  the  clear- 
est evidence  ;  neither  ought  it  to  be  uttered  by  the  lip, 
much  less  be  recorded  by  the  pen,  except  with  a  view 
to  lessen  the  havoc  which  it  describes,  by  disturbing  the 
delusion  which  is  the  cause  of  this  extensive  ruin. 

It  is  evident — at  least  if  the  Word  of  God  be  true — 
that  no  man  can  be  saved  without  religion  ;  and  that 
the  religion  which  does  not  include  love,  is,  in  fact,  no 
rehgion  at  all :  the  only  inquiry,  then,  to  be  answered 
is.  Does  Christian  love  abound,  or  is  it  comparatively 
rare  1  Is  the  great  mass  of  human  beings  around  us 
actuated  by  a  spirit  of  universal  benevolence — a  bene- 
volence which  is  the  fruit  of  regeneration,  and  the  ef- 
fect of  faith  ;  which  springs  from  love  to  God,  and  is 
cherished  by  a  sense  of  redeeming  grace  ;  which  is  ex- 
ercised in  obedience  to  the  divine  authority,  and  with  a 
view  to  the  divine  glory ;  which,  in  its  operations,  is  full 
of  forbearance  and  meekness,  kindness,  candour,  and 
sympathy,  humility  and  disinterestedness  1  Is  this  the 
prevailing  disposition  of  the  bulk  of  mankind  1  Do 
we  see  it  manifested  in  the  intercourse  of  society  ? 
Alas  !  alas !  instead  of  this,  do  we  not  still  see  these 
passions  in  operation,  which  the  Apostle  mentions  as 
descriptive  of  the  conduct  of  mankind  to  each  other  in 
his  day.  "  For  we  ourselves,  who  were  sometime  dis- 
obedient, deceived,  serving  divers  lusts  and  pleasures, 
living  in  malice  and  envy  ;  hateful,  and  hating  one  an- 
other." Are  not  anger,  malice,  revenge,  selfishness, 
envy,  pride,  censoriousness,  the  predominant  disposi- 
tions in  the  generality  of  mankind  1  Who  can  deny 
this,  or  who  will  attempt  to  deny  it  1  And  if  this  be  the 
case,  religion  must  be  comparatively  rare.  Few,  in- 
deed, are  living  in  the  exemplification  of  Christian  love. 
Dreadful,  tremendous  idea  ! — I  tremble  as  I  write  ! — 
my  soul  is  distressed,  and  groans  with  anguish  over  my 
own  statements.  I  would  disbelieve  them  if  I  could  ; 
and,  even  believing  them,  I  would  shut  them  up  in  my 
own  bosom,  if  it  were  not  necessary  to  promulgate 


22T 

t1i«m,  in  order  to  detect  that  delusion  which,  by  leading 
men  to  think  that  it  is  an  uncommon  thing  for  souls  to 
be  lost,  makes  it  a  still  rarer  occurrence  for  them  to  be 
saved.  I  must  come  to  the  conclusion — for  I  cannot 
help  it,  without  becoming  an  infidel — that  there  are,  in 
our  time,  many,  many  more  who  perish,  than  are  saved. 
"  Hell  hath  enlarged  herself,  and  opened  her  mouth 
without  measure ;  and  their  glory,  and  their  pomp,  and 
their  multitude,  and  he  that  rejoiceth  shall  descend  into 
it."  Reader,  let  the  dreadful  announcement,  that  it  is  a 
rare  thing  to  be  saved,  startle  you  like  thunder  from 
your  slumbers,  and  lead  you  to  institute  the  most  seri- 
ous, and  solemn,  and  impartial  examination  of  your 
hearts.  Do  not  rest  satisfied  with  a  mere  vague  idea  of 
religion,  or  a  mere  general  careless  assumption  that  you 
are  a  Christian.  Without  such  a  disposition  as  that  we 
have  considered,  you  have  no  religion  ;  and  without  re- 
ligion you  must  perish  eternally.  You  have  been  a 
professor  of  religion,  and  have  approved  a  Gospel  minis- 
try, and  have  enjoyed  the  light  and  advantages  of  gos- 
pel ordinances ;  but  this  will  only  aggravate  your  guilt 
and  condemnation,  and  misery :  if  you  are  not  living 
under  the  influence  of  love,  you  are  living  without  re- 
ligion, and  must  have  your  doom  with  those  of  whom 
it  is  said  "  The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and 
all  the  nations  that  forget  God." 

5.  We  learn  the  great  criminality  of  many  things  still 
remaining,  and  in  some  degree  connived  at,  among  profes- 
sors of  religion. 

JSTational  antipathies  are  too  often  found  in  considera- 
ble strength  in  the  minds  of  Christians,  especially  in  a 
time  of  warfare.  Mistaking  the  nature  of  patriotism, 
and  thinking,  as  did  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans, 
that  love  for  our  country  implies  hatred  of  every  rival 
nation,  we  are  too  apt  to  imbibe  the  spirit  of  the  times 
and  places  in  which  we  live,  and  to  cherish  a  feeling  of 
ill  will  towards  our  national  competitors.  The  religion 
of  the  New  Testament  is  by  no  means  hostile  to  a  spirit 
of  pure  and  sublime  patriotism ;  that  patriotism  which 
seeks  to  exalt  a  nation  by  all  the  arts  of  peace,  the  dis- 


228 

coveries  of  science,  the  inventions  of  fancy,  the  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge,  morality,  and  religion :  but  the  thirst 
of  conquest,  the  love  of  aggrandizement,  the  lust  of  do- 
mination, which  would  make  us  dislike  a  nation,  be- 
cause it  limits  our  power  and  resists  our  aggressions,  is 
an  unchristian  feeling,  and  an  offence  against  the  law  of 
love.  From  every  thing  which  would  flatter  the  pride, 
or  excite  the  ambition,  or  exasperate  the  anger,  or  in- 
crease the  irritability,  of  a  nation — every  thing  that 
would  swell  the  current  of  prejudice  against  another 
country,  we  should  carefully  abstain :  we  should  have 
no  national  enemies,  no  enmities  and  aversions  excited, 
by  the  geographical  divisions  of  the  globe.  We  should 
remember  that  God  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations 
that  dwell  upon  the  earth ;  and,  therefore,  that  all  men 
are  our  brothers,  and  should  be  loved  as  brothers.  A 
Christian  is,  in  one  sense,  a  citizen  of  the  world ;  and 
although  he  was  born  in  England,  should  abhor  the 
thought  of  an  hereditary  dislike  to  an  American,  or  a 
Frenchman.  When  national  passions  are  roused  and 
incensed,  he  is  to  bear  no  part  in  the  widely  circulating 
hatred ;  and  amidst  much  that  he  may  regret  and  con- 
demn, is  still  to  remember,  that  he  is  not  to  be  "  easily 
provoked." 

Allied  to  this  is  the  passion  for  war. 

Whether  the  abstract  principle  of  the  unjustifiableness 
of  war  in  every  case  be  tenable,  we  will  not  now  dis- 
cuss ;  but  that  war,  as  it  is  usually  maintained,  is  utter- 
ly indefensible  on  Christian  principles,  can  admit  of  no 
question.  It  is  but  too  evident,  that  nominal,  and  even 
great  numbers  of  real  Christians,  are  not  duly  impress- 
ed with  the  deep  criminality  and  great  enormity  of  the 
warlike  spirit.  Instead  of  bearing  their  testimony,  by  all 
proper  means,  and  on  every  suitable  occasion,  against 
it,  they  partake  of  the  general  and  murderous  enthusi- 
asm ;  they  cherish  the  same  antipathies ;  are  actuated 
by  the  same  revengeful,  proud,  ambitious  spirit,  as  the 
people  of  the  world  ;  defend  by  argument  the  wars  that 
arise,  as  just  and  necessary  ;  read  with  as  much  avidity 
the  details  of  battles ;  boast  with  as  much  exultation  of 


the  victories  which  are  obtained ;  and  enter  as  deeply 
into  all  the  ardour  of  the  hostile  passion,  as  though  they 
were  the  worshippers  of  Mars,  the  god  of  war,  instead 
of  Jehovah,  the  God  of  Love.  Ought  these  things  to 
be  ?  Are  they  not  a  manifest  and  flagrant  violation  of 
all  their  principles  and  professions  1  The  whole  sub- 
stance, genius,  and  tendency  of  Christianity,  is  pacific. 
The  God  whom  we  worship  delighteth  in  mercy,  and  is 
infinitely  benevolent ;  the  character  of  Christ,  who  is 
our  example,  no  less  than  our  atonement,  is  formed  of 
all  the  meek  and  gentle  virtues,  in  the  greatest  perfec- 
tion; the  scheme  of  salvation  is  a  plan  of  grace;  all  the 
doctrines  of  revelation  unite  in  their  tendency  to  soften 
and  sweeten  the  temper;  while  the  precepts  of  Christian 
morality  forbid  wrath,  anger,  malice,  revenge  of  every 
kind  or  degree,  and  enjoin  us,  in  no  case,  to  render  evil 
for  evil,  but  ever  to  return  good  for  evil.  The  New 
Testament  is  directly  opposed  to  that  rage  and  resent- 
ment, to  which  the  world  has  given  the  delusive  names 
of  spirit  and  a  sense  of  honour,  and  from  whence  wars 
and  contentions  proceed.  To  these  haughty  and  mis- 
chievous sensibilities,  which  are  but  an  imitation  of  the 
passions  that  rage  in  full  force  in  the  natures  of  brute 
animals,  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  offers  all  the  resist- 
ance of  a  divine  authority.  Let  any  man  think  of  the 
crimes  committed,  and  the  miseries  inflicted,  by  a  single 
battle,  and  surely,  if  he  has  ever  read  only  one  of  the 
Gospels,  or  one  of  the  Epistles,  he  must  be  convinced 
that  a  hatred  of  war  is  an  essential  feature  of  practical 
religion.  But  we  need  go  no  further  than  this  chapter, 
to  prove  that  the  warlike  passion,  even  in  the  least  de- 
gree, is  opposed  to  Christianity ;  for  if  love  were  uni- 
versally prevalent,  swords  would  be  beaten  into  plough- 
shares, and  spears  into  pruning-hooks.  It  is  high  time 
for  the  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  in  every 
part  of  the  world,  to  study  the  genius  of  their  religion, 
since,  in  the  knowledge  of  this,  many  of  them  are  still 
lamentably  deficient.  It  is  a  shame  upon  what  is  called 
the  Christian  world,  that  it  has  not  long  since,  borne 
universal,  impassioned,  and  indignant  testimony  against 

21 


230 

that  enormous  evil,  which  still  rages  not  merely  among 
savages ;  but  among  scholars,  philosophers.  Christians, 
and  divines.  In  vain,  so  far  as  regards  the  diffusion  of 
a  pacific  spirit,  has  science  enlightened  the  mind ;  in 
vain  has  learning  softened  the  manners  and  cultivated 
the  taste  ;  in  vain  has  art  multiplied  the  comforts ;  in 
vain  has  even  religion  established  the  faith,  and  in  some 
measure  sanctified  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants  of  Christ- 
endom ;  for  war,  horrid,  bloody,  destructive  war,  is  as 
much  practised,  and  as  much  patronised,  as  ever. 
Whatever  men  have  learnt,  they  have  not  learnt  to  love 
one  another ;  whatever  attainments  they  have  made  in 
knowledge,  they  have  made  scarcely  any  in  Charity ; 
however  high  they  may  have  soared  above  the  savage 
into  the  heights  of  science,  they  are  still  nearly  upon  a 
level  in  a  taste  for  war.  But  real  Christians  should 
come  out  and  be  separate,  and  touch  not  the  unclean 
thing :  let  them  act  upon  their  own  principles,  and  be- 
come not  only  the  friends  but  the  advocates  of  peace  : 
let  them  echo  back  in  their  several  spheres  the  angel's 
description  of  Christianity,  "  peace  on  earth,  good  will 
to  men :"  let  ministers  from  the  pulpit,  writers  from  the 
press,  private  Christians,  in  their  intercourse  with  each 
other  and  with  the  world, — inculcate  a  fixed  and  irre- 
concileable  abhorrence  of  war:  let  the  church  of  God 
be  a  society  for  the  diffusion  of  the  principles  of  univer- 
sal peace. 

Love  forbids  the  indulgence  of  sectarian  prejudice,  GJod 
has,  for  wise  ends  no  doubt,  permitted  the  existence  of 
various  and  conflicting  opinions  among  real  Christians : 
but,  unhappily,  instead  of  making  these  differences 
merely  the  occasion  of  mutual  forbearance,  and  op- 
portunities for  showing  through  what  interposing  media 
Christians  can  press  to  recognize  and  embrace  each 
other ;  instead  of  converting  them  into  tests  of  the  sin- 
cerity, and  proofs  of  the  strength  of  our  attachment ; — 
we  have  permitted  them  to  rise  up  into  separating  walls, 
which  divide  and  alienate  our  hearts  from  each  other. 
Perhaps,  even  towards  those  whose  errors  are  too  fun- 
damental to  allow  us  to  acknowledge  them  as  fellow- 


231 

Christians,  much  less  to  hold  communion  with  them  in 
the  bond  of  church  fellowship,  there  is  not  enough  of 
genuine  charity ;  for  is  there  not  something  of  bitterness 
and  contempt,  of  wrath  and  ill  will,  instead  of  that  deep 
compassion  and  tender  pity  with  which  their  situation 
should  ever  he  viewed  1  Poor  men !  with  all  their  boast- 
ed reason,  they  walk  in  darkness  at  noonday,  and,  with 
the  lamp  of  truth  in  their  hands,  they  are  yet  stumbling 
like  the  blind.  We  may  feel  a  holy  abhorrence  of  their 
sentiments,  but,  for  themselves,  we  should  cherish  the 
deepest  commiseration. 

But  as  to  those  who  agree  with  us  in  all  the  funda- 
mental doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  and  differ  from  us  only 
on  the  forms  of  church  government,  on  the  mode  and 
subject  of  a  sacrament,  or  on  some  of  the  minor  points 
of  doctrine, — surely — surely,  towards  them,  we  should 
maintain  the  full  force  of  brotherly  affection,  without 
allowing  our  differences  to  interrupt  for  a  moment  the 
exercise  of  the  most  entire  good  will.  We  would  in- 
dulge a  hope,  that,  in  this  age,  there  is  a  nearer  ap- 
proximation than  there  was,  of  the  various  denomina- 
tions of  Christians  to  each  other ;  that  the  spirit  of  in- 
tolerance is  dying  away  ;  that  there  is  a  greater  disposi- 
tion to  recognize  each  other,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
term,  as  members  of  the  same  body,  and  brethren  in  the 
same  family :  but  even  yet,  there  is  too  much  of  the 
odium  theologicum  remaining  among  ministers,  and  too 
much  of  the  spirit  of  party  among  laymen  ;  too  much  of 
the  feeling  of  rivalry  and  suspicion  ;  too  much  disposi- 
tion to  miscontrue  actions,  to  arraign  motives ;  too  much 
inclination  to  envy  and  jealousy.  It  is  too  common  for 
the  ministers  and  members  of  the  establishment,  to  look 
with  haughty  contempt,  and  to  speak  as  they  feel  to- 
wards those  who  secede  from  their  church :  and  to  re- 
vile them  as  troublesome  schismatics,  as  rebels  against 
established  authority. 

Let  it  not  be  thought,  however,  that  it  is  only  by 
Churchmen  that  the  law  of  love  is  violated  ;  for  it  must 
be  confessed,  and  regretted,  that  it  is  not  always  ob- 
geryed  ?is  it  should  be,  by  the  various  sects  of  Dissenters. 


232 

Baptists  Paedo-baptists,  and  Methodists,  are  all  too  of- 
ten actuated  by  a  degree  of  envy,  jealousy,  and  selfish- 
ness, utterly  unworthy  of  the  great  cause  of  religion,  and 
altogether  at  variance  with  their  common  principles. 
What  attempts  are  sometimes  made  by  the  Wesleyans 
to  raise  a  prejudice  against  Galvanism  and  its  adherents, 
by  deformed,  horrid,  and  ferocious  looking  caricatures 
of  that  system ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  how  often  are 
the  whole  body  of  Methodists  condemned  by  Calvanists, 
as  upholding  all  the  errors  of  Pelagius  !  Baptists  pour 
unmeasured  contempt  on  infant  baptism,  and  are  repaid 
by  their  opponents  in  ridicule  on  adult  immersion. 
Statements  are  often  given  of  the  sentiments  of  a  sect, 
which  they  would  deny,  and  consequences  deduced  from 
them  which  they  would  abhor.  And  then,  what  clash- 
ing of  interests  frequently  takes  place  ichen  a  new  de- 
nomination is  introduced  into  a  town  or  a  village.  Some- 
times this  introduction  takes  place  without  occasion  for 
it :  there  is  really  no  room  for  another  body  of  Chris- 
tians ;  'the  existing  means  of  public  instruction  are  al- 
ready sufficient,  both  as  to  quantity  and  quality  ; — and, 
in  this  case,  to  be  animated  by  such  a  zeal  for  our  de- 
nomination, as  to  set  it  up  at  the  certain  hazard,  and 
especially  with  the  very  hope,  of  dividing  a  prevailing  and 
hitherto  peaceful  body  of  Christians,  is,  in  the  last  de- 
gree, a  hateful  effusion  of  party  spirit :  men  may  call  it 
zeal  for  the  glory  of  God ;  but  call  it  what  they  will,  it 
is,  when  exhibited  in  its  own  deformity,  nothing  but  envy, 
or  the  selfishness  which  seeketh  its  own.  In  other  cases, 
what  jealousy  and  ill  will  have  been  stirred  up  in  the 
minds  of  an  existing  ])arty,  by  an  attempt  made  by 
another  to  establish  itself  in  the  same  place  !  It  signified 
nothing  how  large  was  the  place,  how  great  the  popu- 
lation, how  inadequate  the  means  of  religious  instruc- 
tion :  all  this  was  left  out  of  view  ;  and  the  new  denomi- 
nation, though  they  preached  the  Gospel  in  its  purity, 
was  opposed  and  disliked,  because  it  came  into  a  field 
where  there  was  already  an  evangelical  body,  though 
that  body  could  not  be  said  to  have  occupied  more  than 
one  little  nook  or  corner  of  the  uncultivated  land.     It 


233 

would  be  inviduous  to  name  any  denomination  as  having 
manifested  most  of  this  spirit, — no  one,  perhaps,  is  al- 
together free  from  it :  but  we  have  known,  in  some  in- 
stances, such  wretched,  paltry,  nay  wicked,  means  re- 
sorted to ;  such  attempts  to  oppose  the  new  comers,  by 
defaming  their  principles,  by  insinuating  charges  against 
their  ministers,  by  throwing  suspicions  even  over  the 
purposes  of  their  private  meetings ;  such  a  system  of 
espionage,  by  sending  spies  to  gather  something  to  cavil 
at  from  the  discourses  of  their  opponents,  as  they  choose 
to  call  them  ;  such  a  series  of  kidnapping  tricks  to  draw 
away  the  young  and  unwary ; — that  we  have  felt  it 
somewhat  difficult,  in  witnessing  this  absence  of  Chris- 
tian love  in  others,  to  retain  it  in  exercise  in  our  own 
hearts  towards  them.  Instead  of  indulging  such  envy, 
jealousy,  and  ill  will,  all  denominations  who  agree  in  the 
fundamental  truths  of  the  Gospel  should  regard  and  hail 
each  other,  as  only  so  many  companies  in  the  same  regi- 
ment, or  so  many  labourers  in  the  same  field,  or  so  many 
workmen  in  the  same  building, — having  one  common 
object,  and  serving  under  one  common  head.  But, 
alas  !  alas !  no  rival  companies  of  a  secular  nature  can 
be  more  jealous  of  each  other  than  some  congregations 
of  professing  Christians  are.  This  remark  does  not  ap- 
ply so  much  to  the  larger  bodies,  which  are  to  be  found 
in  our  great  towns  and  cities,  as  to  the  smaller  ones, 
which  exist  in  our  less  populous  places.  But  we  have 
all  too  much  prejudice,  and  too  little  Christian  affection 
for  each  other.  We  all  need  more  of  the  mind  of 
Christ.  We  do  not  wish  to  see  a  spirit  of  indifference 
to  our  distinctive  opinions, — this  would  be  a  sin  in  the 
other  extreme ;  but  we  desire  to  behold  more  cordial 
good  will  and  confidence  towards  those  who  differ  from 
us,  and  far,  far  less  of  the  spirit  of  sects  and  parties. 

Love  would  soften  the  asperity,  and  remove  the  acri- 
mony, of  controversy.  We  are  not  enemies  to  well-con- 
ducted controversy.  As  long  as  truth  is  attacked,  it 
must  be  defended :  and  as  long  as  error  exists,  it  must  be 
assailed.  To  give  up  the  truth  for  the  sake  of  peace, 
is  a  conspiracy  against  the  Bible,  and  establishing  a 
21* 


234 

covenant  with  the  enemies  of  the  Lord.  Not  an  iota 
of  God's  word  must  be  surrendered  to  error  and  infideU- 
ty.  We  must  "  contend  earnestly  for  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints;"  and  resist,  if  need  be,  unto 
bonds,  imprisonment,  and  death.  A  hollow,  fawning, 
parasitical  spirit,  which  would  conciliate  the  friendship 
of  men  disaffected  to  the  Scriptures,  by  giving  up,  or 
treating  lightly,  any  of  their  contents,  has  the  curse  of 
heaven  upon  it.  "  Controversy  is  the  safety  valve  of 
theological  zeal.  The  spirit  of  party  is  opposed  to  it, 
being  too  intolerant  for  discussion.  Truth  has  always 
triumphed  by  means  of  controversy:  she  has  grown 
powerless  only  when  the  sleep  of  lethargy  has  stolen 
upon  the  church.-  What  is  Christianity  itself,  but  a 
standing  controversy  with  the  infidel,  the  sensualist,  and 
the  formalist, — the  men  of  the  world  ]  We  admit  that 
the  spirit  of  controversy,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  the 
controversial  spirit,  is  not,  in  itself,  very  conducive  to  the 
cultivation  of  personal  piety.  The  angry  controvertist, 
and  fierce  polemic,  is  not  always  a  devout  believer  or 
an  amiable  member  of  society.  The  church  has  been 
sometimes  as  much  disgraced  by  her  advocates,  as  an- 
noyed by  her  assailants ;  and  there  are  intestine  debates 
and  disputes,  which,  as  friends  to  religion,  as  well  as 
friends  to  peace,  wc  could  wish  to  have  terminated  for 
ever.  But  alive,  as  we  trust  we  are,  to  the  dangers  of 
controversy,  we  must,  nevertheless,  protest  against  that 
timid,  trimming,  self-indulgent,  ultra-liberal  dread  of  re- 
ligious debate,  which  would  bind  over  truth  to  keep  the 
peace  with  error,  and  consign  those  celestial  weapons 
of  the  spiritual  armoury — reason  and  Scripture — to  the 
ark  of  the  church,  as  useless  regalia."*  It  is  highly 
probable  that  all  controversy  will  never  cease,  till  truth 
stands  revealed  amidst  the  light  of  eternity.  But  there 
will  come  a  period,  when  men  will  discuss  their  differ- 
ences in  the  spirit  of  brotherly  affection :  when,  perhaps, 
there  will  be  fewer  points  unsettled,  and  those  few  will 
be  debated  with  candour  and  mutual  esteem.     Too 

*  Eclectic  Review. 


235 

many,  in  their  disputations  about  religion,  contend  ibf 
truth,  till  they  have  destroyed  love,  and  even,  in  refe- 
rence to  the  former,  present  it  in  so  mutilated  a  form,  as 
to  deprive  it  of  much  of  its  ow^n  engaging  beauty. 

Luther's  prayer  should  be  presented  by  all — "  From 
frivolous,  fruitless  controversies,  good  Lord  deliver  us !" 
It  is  well  observed  by  an  old  writer,  "  That  disputations 
in  religion  are  sometimes  necessary,  but  always  danger- 
ous ;  drawing  the  best  spirits  into  the  head  from  the 
heart,  and  either  leaving  it  empty  of  all,  or  too  full  of 
fleshly,  zeal  and  passion,  if  extraordinary  care  be  hot 
taken  still  to  supply  and  fill  it  anew  with  pious  affection 
towards  God,  and  love  towards  man."  There  is  no 
case  in  which  good  men  are  more  under  the  power  of 
the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  than  when  engaged  in  re- 
ligious controversy ;  and  when,  under  the  idea  that  they 
are  onjy  "  contending  earnestly  for  the  faith,"  they  in- 
dulge in  all  kinds  of  unhallowed  tempers,  dip  their  pens 
in  gall,  deliberately  write,  as  deliberately  print,  and  no 
less  deliberately  justify,  the  bitterest  sarcasms — the  se- 
verest irony — the  most  railing  accusations — the  grossest 
personalities — the  most  uncharitable  surmises  :  in  short, 
when,  as  the  controversy  is  about  religion, — a  circum- 
stance which  ought  to  produce  a  spirit  directly  the  re- 
verse,— there  is  no  degree  of  abuse,  reviling,  and  de- 
famation, to  which  they  do  not  have  recourse.  Such 
has  been  too  often  the  tone  of  religious  controversy, 
and  by  which  it  would  seem  as  if  the  graces  were  mere 
heathen  courtezans,  in  whose  company  a  Christian 
should  blush  to  be  found  ;  while  the  furies  were  so  many 
personifications  of  holy  zeal,  whose  assistance  is  to  be 
solicited  in  the  support  of  truth.  Oh,  what  a  handle 
has  the  spirit  of  angry  controversy  given  to  infidels 
against  the  whole  system  of  revelation ! — they  have 
fought  against  Christianity  with  poisoned  arrows,  and 
the  gall  of  furious  polemics  has  supplied  the  venom  in 
which  they  have  dipped  their  sarcasms,  ironies,  and 
jests.  It  is  high  time  that  the  Apostle's  exhortation 
should  be  practically  remembered, — "Let  all  bitterness, 
and  wrath,  and  anger,  and  clamour,  and  evil-speaking, 


236 

be  put  away  from  you,  with  all  malice :"  that  all  who 
contend  for  the  faith,  should  remember  Paul's  advice  to 
Timothy, — "  The  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive ; 
but  be  gentle  unto  all  men,  apt  to  teach,  patient ;  in 
meekness  instructing  those  that  oppose  themselves,  if 
God  peradventure  will  give  them  repentance,  to  the 
acknowledging  of  the  truth."  The  wrath  of  man,  in 
no  instance,  worketh  the  righteousness  of  God.  Let 
any  one  read  this  chapter,  and  say  if  it  be  possible  to 
justify  the  spirit  in  which  contentions  for  the  truth  are 
generally  carried  on.  Let  it  not  be  pleaded  that  we 
are  commanded  to  rebuke  sharply,  as  if  this  furnished 
an  apology  for  all  uncharitableness :  for  duties  cannot 
be  in  opposition  to  each  other:  and  therefore  even  this 
must  be  performed  in  a  manner  that  is  compatible  with 
meekness  and  love.  Unfortunately,  the  spirit  of  acri- 
monious controversy  is  as  popular  as  it  is  sinfuk  those 
pugnacious  hierophants,  by  whom  it  is  carried  on,  are 
generally  the  leaders  of  a  party,  which  thinks  itself  hap- 
py in  a  representative,  who  with  his  shield  can  defend 
them,  and  with  his  tremendous  sword  can  vanquish  their 
enemies,  and  thus  lead  them  on  to  victory  and  suprema- 
cy. It  would  be  amusing,  if  it  were  not  too  serious  a 
matter  for  entertainment,  to  hear  how  these  persons  ex- 
ult in  the  exploits  of  their  redoubtable  Hercules  ;  and  to 
see  how  securely  they  repose  under  the  protection  of 
his  terrible  and  far-resounding  club.  What  deep  dis- 
grace is  it  upon  the  professors  and  teachers  of  the  reli- 
gion of  the  meek  and  lowly  Saviour,  to  suppose  that  his 
doctrines  and  his  precepts  require  the  aid  of  human  and 
unhallowed  passions  to  give  them  eflect ! 

We  may  next  exhibit  the  criminality  which  attaches  to  the 
sin  of  schism,  and  deplore  its  prevalence.  It  will  be  ne- 
cessary to  explain  here  what  I  mean  by  schism.  No 
term  has  been  more  employed  or  more  abused  than  this; 
it  has  furnished  to  bigots  of  all  j)ai'ties  a  theme  of  angry 
declamation,  and  a  subject  of  bitter  accusation  and  re- 
proach, against  all  who  (lifter  from  them  in  opinion ; 
upon  whatever  ground,  or  in  whatever  spirit,  that  difte- 
rence  is  maintmned.     Papists  charge  this  sin  upon  Pro- 


237 

testants ;  while  the  Church  of  England,  in  its  turn,  at- 
tempts to  fasten  the  guilt  of  it  upon  all  who  secede  from 
her  communion.  It  is  circulated  with  eagerness  from 
one  denomination  to  another,  as  a  term  of  ignominy, 
and  is  continually  calling  into  exercise  some  of  the  worst 
passions  of  human  nature.  Papal  bulls,  episcopal 
charges,  clerical  sermons,  party-spirited  journals,  are 
continually  harping  upon  it ;  and  multitudes,  who  have 
no  other  means  of  blackening  an  opponent,  think  that 
they  cannot  more  effectually  succeed  in  rendering  him 
both  odious  andgujlty,  thaj  by  calling  him  a  schismatic. 
I  will  at  once  confess,  that  schism  is,  indeed,  when  pro- 
perly understood,  a  sin  of  so  enormous  a  kind,  that  too 
much  cannot  be  said  for  its  condemnation.  But  it  is 
not  properly  understood.  In  its  etymological  significa- 
tion it  means  a  rent,  a  division,  a  separation  of  that 
which  was  originally  one.* 

Campbell's  remarks  are  so  clear  and  convincing  on 
this  subject,  that  they  may,  with  great  propriety,  be  re- 
ferred to.  As  breach,  or  rupture,  is  the  literal  import  of 
the  term  in  our  language,  wherever  these  words  may  be 
figuratively  applied,  the  term  schism  seems  likewise  ca- 
pable of  an  application.  It  invariably  supposes,  that 
among  those  things  whereof  it  is  affirmed,  there  subsist- 
ed an  union  formerly,  and  as  invariably  denotes  that 
the  union  subsists  no  longer.  In  this  manner  the  Apos- 
tle Paul  uses  the  word,  applying  it  to  a  particular 
church,  or  Christian  congregation.  Thus  he  adjures 
the  Corinthians,  by  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
there  be  no  divisions,  or  schisms,  among  them ;  and  in 
another  place  of  the  same  Epistle,  "  I  hear  that  there 
are  divisions,"  or  schisms.  In  order  to  obtain  a  proper 
idea  of  what  is  meant  by  a  breach,  or  schism,  in  this  ap- 
plication, we  must  form  a  just  notion  of  that  which  con- 
stituted the  union  whereof  the  schism  was  a  violation. 
Now,  the  great  and  powerful  cement  which  united  the 
souls  of  Christians,  was  their  mutual  love.  Their  hearts 
in  the  emphatical  language  of  holy  writ,   were  knit 

*  Matthew  ix.  16.    John  rii.  43. 


238 

together  in  love.  This  had  been  declared  by  their  Mas- 
ter to  be  the  distinguishing  badge  of  their  profession — 
*'  JBy  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if 
ye  have  love  one  to  another."  Their  partaking  of  the 
same  baptism,  their  professing  the  same  faith,  their  en- 
joying the  same  promises,  and  their  joining  in  the  same 
rehgious  services, — formed  a  connexion  merely  exter- 
nal, and  of  little  significance,  unless,  agreeably  to  the 
Apostle's  expression,  it  was  rooted  and  grounded  in 
love.  As  this,  therefore,  is  the  great  criterion  of  the 
Christian  character,  and  t^e  foundation  of  Christian 
unity, — whatever  alienates  the  affections  of  Christians 
from  one  another  is  manifestly  subversive  of  both,  and 
may,  consequently,  with  the  greatest  truth  and  energy, 
be  denominated  schism.  It  is  not  so  much  what  makes 
an  outward  distinction,  or  separation  (though  this  also 
may,  in  a  lower  degree,  be  so  denominated,)  as  what 
produces  an  alienation  of  the  heart,  which  constitutes 
schism  in  the  sense  of  the  Apostle ;  for  this  strikes  di- 
rectly at  the  vitals  of  Christianity.  Indeed,  both  the 
evil  and  the  danger  of  the  former, — ^that  is,  an  external 
separation, — is  principally  to  be  estimated  from  its  in- 
fluence upon  the  latter, — that  is,  in  producing  an  alien- 
ation of  heart ;  for  it  is  in  the  union  of  affection  among 
Christians,  that  the  spirit,  the  hfe,  and  the  power,  of 
religion  are  principally  placed.     - 

Wherever  an  alienation  of  heart  takes  place,  and 
whatever  be  the  occasion  of  it,  whether  there  be  an 
external  separation  or  not,  there  is  a  schism.  It  may 
arise  in  the  Church  of  England,  and  has,  perhaps, 
arisen  in  the  divisions  characterized  by  the  terms  evan- 
gelical and  anti-evangelical;  not,  indeed,  that  these 
terms  are  recognised,  but  the  distinctions  certainly  ex- 
ist of  whicli  they  are  the  designations  ;  or  it  may  exist 
in  the  Church  of  Scotland,  and  docs  exist  in  a  way 
similar  to  what  occurs  in  the  sister  church  in  the  south ; 
it  arose  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  that  boasted  seat  of 
unity  and  infallii)ility,  in  the  contest  between  the  Jan- 
Benists  and  the  Jesuits  ;  or,  it  may  arise, — as,  alas  !  we 
know  to  our  shame  and  distress  it  does  too  often  arise, 


239 

' — in  our  Independent  churches :  so  that,  without  any 
actual  arid  visible  separation  or  secession,  this  dreadful 
evil  may  be  in  full  and  mischievous  operation.     On  the 
contrary,  there  may  be  diversity  of  opinion  in  the  same 
society,  as  in  those  Baptist  churches  that  admit  of  mix- 
ed communion,  without  any  schism ;    and,  provided 
there  be  no  ahenation  of  heart,  no  interruption  to  mu- 
tual esteem  and  good-will,  there  may  be  even  an  exter- 
nal separation,  without  schism.     This  sin  can  have  no 
existence  except  in  those  cases  where  the  unity  of  the 
spirit  is  disturbed,  and  the  bond  of  peace  is  severed. 
As  long  as  sincere  love  remains,  there  is,  in  the  full 
sense  of  the  term,  no  schism.    Consequently,  whatever 
tends  to  alienate  the  hearts  of  Christians  from  each 
other,  whatever  tends  to  produce  discord,  whatever 
tends  to  stir  up  strife, — ^no  matter  who  may  be  guilty 
of  such  conduct, — is  the  very  essence  of  this  hateful 
vice.     If  men  will  attempt  to  coerce  the  conscience, 
by  legislating  for  others  in  such  matters  as  those  of  re- 
ligion, and  interfere,    by  human  authority,  in  affairs 
which  should  be  transacted  through  the  medium  of  the 
Bible,  between  God  and  the  soul, — they  must  be  answer- 
able for  those  divisions  which  arise  from  the  conscien- 
tious objections  of  persons  who  cannot  submit  to  such 
enactments.    If  to  separate  peaceably  from  the  Church 
of  England  be  the  sin  of  schism,  how  will  the  Church 
of  England  justify  itself  from  the  same  charge  brought 
against  her  by  the  Church  of  Rome  *?     The  schismatic 
is  not  he  who  peaceably  secedes ;  but  he  who  renders 
secession  necessary,  by  setting  up  requirements  with 
which  the  separatist  cannot  comply  without  violating 
his  conscience.     Not  that  I  mean  to  say  Episcopalians, 
or  even  the  supporters  of  any  established  religion,  what- 
ever are  schismatical,  except  where  their  conduct  is 
such  as  is  calculated  to  produce  mutual  disaffection  ; 
so  neither,  on  the  other  hand,  are  dissenters  justly 
chargeable  with  this  sin,  unless  their  conduct  can  be 
fairly  proved  to  be  founded  on  a  factious  spirit  of  lU 
vnll  towards  the  religious  establishment  of  the  coun- 
try.    It  is  nothing  to  say  that  their  dissent  proceeds  on 


240 

insufficient  grounds,  and  their  objections  to  the  church, 
as  by  law  established,  are  to  things  that  are  indifferent 
in  themselves,  and  therefore  frivolous  and  vexatious.    If 
they  are  indifferent,  why  then  impose  them  1  but  of 
their  indifference  or  importance  dissenters  themselves 
must  judge ;  as  did  the  reformed  churches  of  Chris- 
tendom of  the  corruptions  of  Popery.     If  a  dissenter 
employ  himself  in  stirring  up  ill  will  towards  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  England,  by  arraigning  the  mo- 
tives of  its  ministers,  and  charging  them  with  sordid  ava- 
rice, or  a  mere  love  of  worldly  pomp  and  domination  ; 
or  by  questioning  the  piety  of  its  members  ;  or  by  excit- 
ing animosity,  or  producing  alienation  of  heart  in  the 
minds  of  his  own  party  ;  or,  if  he  so  state,  defend,  and 
enforce  his  own  principles,  as  that  the  natural  result  in 
those  who  hear  him  shall  be  an  interruption  of  all  com- 
munion of  heart,  and  the  exercise  of  aU  mutual  good- 
will between  the  two  denominations ;  if  he  employ  him- 
self in  widening  the  breach  between  them,  and  repel- 
ling them  farther  from  each  other ; — he  is  indeed  a  schis- 
matic, and  deserves  all  the  reproach  which  such  con- 
duct can  bring  upon  him.     But,  then,  it  should  be  re- 
collected that  no  less  guilty  of  the  sin  of  schism,  is  he 
who,  whether  he  be  a  mitred  or  unmitred  minister  of  the 
Established  Church,  employs  his  talents  in  holding  up 
dissenters  to  public  obloquy  as  a  factious,  troublesome, 
dangerous  body,  seceding  upon  no  grounds  but  such  as 
are  frivolus,  entitled  to  reproach  for  what  they  have  done, 
and  to  suspicion  for  what  they  may  do.     But  quitting 
names  and  parties,  schism  is  the  sin  of  doing  anything 
to  alienate  men's  hearts  from  each  other,  whatever  be 
the  occasion  or  the  means  of  the  estrangement.     And 
a  sin  it  is,  of  a  magnitude  and  enormity  which  few  can 
estimate.    It  is  the  very  opposite  of  charity ;  and  in  say- 
ing this  we  arraign  il  upon  the  most  solemn  and  the  most 
capital  charge,  which  any  indictment  can  prefer.     We 
have  all,  perhaps,  something  of  it  in  our  spirit;  but  lit- 
tle does  it  occur  to  some  men,  when  they  are  advanc- 
ing their   charges   and   fulminating  their  anathemas 
against  others  for  the  sin  of  schism,  that,  while  in  the 


241 

eye  of  heaven  the  objects  of  their  anger  are  innocent 
of  the  crime  that  is  laid  to  their  charge,  they  themselves 
are  regarded  by  him,  whose  judgment  is  according  to 
truth,  as  the  greatest  schismatics  upon  earth. 

The  temptation  cannot  be  resisted,  of  introducing 
here  a  long, — but  no  one  w^ho  has  a  taste  for  literary  or 
moral  beauty  will  deem  it  too  long  an  extract  from  the 
writings  of  Mr.  Hall. 

"The  Galilean  church,  no  doubt,  looked  upon  it  as 
a  signal  triumph,  when  she  prevailed  on  Louis  the  Four- 
teenth to  repeal  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  to  suppress 
the  Protestant  religion.  But  what  was  the  conse- 
quence 1  Where  shall  we  look  after  this  period,  for 
her  Fenelons  and  her  Pascals ;  where  for  the  distin- 
guished monuments  of  piety  and  learning,  which  were 
the  glory  of  her  better  days  ?  As  for  piety,  she  per- 
ceived she  had  no  occasion  for  it,  when  there  was  no 
lustre  of  Christian  holiness  surrounding  her ;  nor  for 
learning,  when  she  had  no  longer  any  opponents  to 
confute,  or  any  controversies  to  maintain.  She  felt 
herself  at  liberty  to  become  as  ignorant,  as  secular,  as 
irreligious,  as  she  pleased;  and,  amidst  the  silence  and 
darkness  she  had  created  around  her,  she  drew  the  cur- 
tains, and  retired  to  rest.  The  accession  of  numbers 
she  gained  by  suppressing  her  opponents,  was  like  the 
small  extension  of  length  a  body  acquires  by  death ; 
the  feeble  remains  of  life  were  extinguished,  and  she 
lay  a  putrid  corpse — a  public  nuisance,  filling  the  air 
with  pestilential  exhalations.  Such,  there  is  every  rea- 
son to  believe,  would  be  the  effect  of  similar  measures 
in  England.  That  union  among  Christians  which  it  is 
so  desirable  to  recover,  must,  we  are  persuaded,  be  the 
result  of  something  more  heavenly  and  divine  than  le- 
gal restraints  or  angry  controversies.  tJnless  an  angel 
were  to  descend  for  that  purpose,  the  spirit  of  division 
is  a  disease  which  will  never  be  healed  by  troubling  the 
waters.  We  must  expect  the  cure  from  the  increasing 
prevalence  of  religion,  and  from  a  copious  communi- 
cation of  the  Spirit  to  prodwce  that  event.  A  more 
extensive  diffusion  of  piety,  among  all  sects  and  parties 

22  / 


242 

will  be  the  best  and  only  preparation  for  a  cordial  uni* 
on.  Christians  will  then  be  disposed  to  appreciate 
their  differences  more  equitably,  to  turn  their  chief  at- 
tention to  points  on  which  they  agree  ;  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  loving  each  other  more,  to  make  every  con- 
cession consistent  with  a  good  conscience.  Instead  of 
wishing  to  vanquish  others,  every  one  will  be  desirous 
of  being  vanquished  by  the  truth.  An  awful  fear  of 
God,  and  an  exclusive  desire  of  discovering  his  mind, 
will  hold  a  torch  before  them  in  their  inquiries,  which 
will  strangely  illuminate  the  path  in  which  they  are  to 
tread.  In  the  room  of  being  repelled  by  mutual  anti- 
pathy, they  will  be  insensibly  drawn  nearer  to  each 
other  by  the  ties  of  mutual  attachment.  A  larger  mea- 
sure of  the  spirit  of  Christ  would  prevent  them  from 
converting  every  incidental  variation  into  an  impassa- 
ble boundary,  or  from  condemning  the  most  innocent 
and  laudable  usages,  for  fear  of  symbolizing  with  ano- 
ther class  of  Christians, — an  odious  spirit,  with  which 
the  writer  under  consideration  is  strongly  impregnated. 
The  general  prevalence  of  piety  In  different  communi- 
ties, would  inspire  that  mutual  respect,  that  heartfelt 
homage,  for  the  virtues  conspicuous  in  the  character 
of  their  respective  members,  which  would  urge  us  to 
ask,  with  astonishment  and  regret.  Why  cannot  we  be 
one  1  what  is  it  that  obstructs  our  union  1  Instead  of 
maintaining  the  barrier  which  separates  us  from  each 
other,  and  employing  ourselves  in  fortifying  the  frontiers 
of  hostile  communities,  we  should  be  anxiously  devis- 
ing the  means  of  narrowing  the  grounds  of  dispute,  by 
drawing  the  attention  of  all  parties  to  those  fundamen- 
tal and  catholic  principles  in  which  they  concur. 

**To  this  we  may  add,  that  a  more  perfect  subjection 
to  the  authority  of  the  great  Head  of  the  church,  would 
restrain  men  from  inventing  new  terms  of  communion, 
from  lording  it  over  conscience,  or  from  exacting  a 
scrupulous  compliance  with  things  which  the  word  of 
God  has  left  indifferent.  That  sense  of  imperfection 
we  ought  ever  to  cherish,  would  incline  us  to  be  look- 
ing up  for  superior  light,  and  make  us  think  it  not  ira- 


probable,  that  in  the  long  night  which  has  befallen  us, 
we  have  all  more  or  less  mistaken  our  way,  and  have 
much  to  learn,  and  much  to  correct.  The  very  idea 
of  identifying  a  particular  party  with  the  church,  would 
be  exploded,  the  foolish  clamour  about  schism  hushed, 
and  no  one,  however  mean  or  inconsiderable,  be  expect- 
ed to  surrender  his  conscience  to  the  claims  of  ecclesi- 
astical dominion.  The  New  Testament  is  surely  not 
so  obscure  a  book  that  were  its  contents  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  a  hundred  serious  impartial  men,  it  would  pro- 
duce such  opposite  conclusions,  as  must  necessarily  is- 
sue, in  their  forming  two  or  more  separate  communions. 
It  is  remarkable,  indeed,  that  the  chief  points  about 
which  real  Christians  are  divided,  are  points  on  which 
that  volume  is  silent ;  mere  human  fabrications  which 
the  presumption  of  men  has  attached  to  the  Christian 
system.  A  larger  communication  of  the  spirit  of  truth 
would  insensibly  lead  Christians  into  a  similar  train  of 
thinking  ;  and,  being  more  under  the  guidance  of  that 
infallible  teacher,  they  would  gradually  tend  to  the  same 
point,  and  settle  in  the  same  conclusions.  Without 
such  an  influence  as  this,  the  coalescing  into  one  com- 
munity would  probably  be  productive  of  much  mischief; 
it  certainly  would  do  no  sort  of  good,  since  it  would  be 
the  mere  result  of  intolerance  and  pride,  acting  upon 
indolence  and  fear. 

"During  the  present  disjointed  state  of  things,  then, 
nothing  remains  but  for  every  one  to  whom  the  care  of 
any  part  of  the  church  of  Christ  is  entrusted,  to  exert 
himself  to  the  utmost  in  the  promotion  of  vital  religion, 
in  cementing  the  friendship  of  the  good,  and  repressing, 
with  a  firm  and  steady  hand,  the  heats  and  eruptions  of 
party  spirit.  He  will  find  sufiicient  employment  for  his 
time  and  his  talents,  in  inculcating  the  great  truths  of 
the  Gospel,  and  endeavouring  to  "form  Christ"  in  his 
hearers,  without  blowing  the  flames  of  contention,  or 
widening  that  breach  which  is  already  the  disgrace  and 
calamity  of  the  Christian  name.  Were  our  efforts  uni- 
formly to  take  this  direction,  there  would  be  an  identity 
in  the  impression  made  by  religious  instruction ;  the  dis- 
tortion of  party  features  would  gradually  disappear,  and 


244 

Christians  would  everywhere  approach  toward  that 
ideal  beauty  spoken  of  by  painters,  which  is  combined 
of  the  finest  lines  and  traits  conspicuous  in  individual 
forms.  Since  they  have  all  drank  into  the  same  spirit, 
it  is  manifest  nothing  is  wanting,  but  a  larger  portion  of 
that  spirit,  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  solid,  cordial 
union.  It  is  to  the  immoderate  attachment  to  secular 
interest,  the  love  of  power,  and  the  want  of  reverence 
for  truth, — not  to  the  obscurities  of  revelation, — we 
must  impute  the  unhappy  contentions  among  Chris- 
tians ;  maladies  which  nothing  can  correct,  but  deep 
and  genuine  piety.  The  true  schismatic  is  not  so  pro- 
perly the  person  who  declines  a  compliance  with  what 
he  judges  to  be  wrong,  though  he  may  be  mistaken  in 
that  judgment,  as  the  man  who,  like  the  author  before 
us,  sedulously  employs  every  artifice  to  alienate  the 
affections  of  good  men  from  each  other."* 

5.  How  desirable  is  it  that  religion  should  prevail 
more  than  it  does. 

If  the  spirit  of  religion  is  love,  then  who  can  avoid 
longing  for  its  universal  dominion  ?   How  much  is  it  to 
be  coveted  for  the  peace  of  our  churches  !   It  must 
be  confessed,  and  that  with  grief  and  shame,  that  Zion 
is  not  yet  a  "  peaceable  habitation ;"   nor  do  all  her 
assemblies  present  the  good  and  the  pleasant  sight  of 
brethren  dwelling  together  in  unity.    Contentions  about 
one  thing  or  another  abound.     The  seeds  of  discord 
are  plentifully  sown,  and  bear  an  exuberant  crop  of 
the  fruits  of  contention.     How  many  religious  com- 
munities are  distracted,  to  their  own  injury,  the  exulta- 
tion of  their  enemies,  and  the  discredit  of  religion  !  Ma- 
ny are  the  causes  which  produce  this  unhappy  state  of 
things ;  but  that  which  gives  force  to  them  all,  is  the 
absence  or  the  weakness  of  love.     Here  is  the  grand 
defect,  and  all  other  circumstances  are  but  subsidiary. 
It  is  most  melancholy  and  humiliating  to  discover,  when 
some  trifling  disagreement  occurs,  what  small  attain- 
ments seemingly  nourishing  churches  have  made  in  this 
virtue ;  how  insignificant  is  the  subject  over  which  two 

*  Strictures  on  a  work  entitled,  **  Zeal  without  Innovation. '* 


245 

parties  will  engage  in  all  the  eagerness  of  contention, 
and  how  bitter  the  spirit  with  which  the  contention  is 
carried  on.  It  has  been  said,  that  quarrels  about  religion 
have  been  usually  maintained  with  more  malevolence 
than  any  other.  This  we  deny  ;  but,  at  the  same  time, 
we  must  admit  that  they  are  often  sustained  with  a  mea- 
sure of  acrimony  that  is  a  disgrace  to  all  concerned. 
The  usual  occasion  of  disagreement,  is  either  the  dis- 
missal or  the  choice  of  a  minister.  And  not  unfre- 
quently  do  believers  wrangle  about  him  who  is  to  teach 
them  religion,  till  they  have  lost  the  very  spirit  of  piety 
itself.  But  whatever  may  be  the  occasion,  want  of  love 
is  the  cause,  of  all  feuds  and  strifes. 

O  !  what  churches  we  should  have,  if  Christian  chari- 
ty were  allowed  to  have  its  full  scope !  The  pastor 
would  labour  with  the  most  earnest,  indefatigable,  and 
disinterested  zeal  for  the  eternal  welfare  of  the  flock, 
and,  make  it  evident  that  compassion  for  souls,  and  not 
filthy  lucre,  was  the  impulse  of  all  his  conduct.  Affec- 
tion would  beam  in  his  eyes,  and  breathe  in  his  spirit, 
while  "  the  law  of  kindness"  would  dwell  on  his  lips. 
He  would  preside  over  the  people  in  the  meekness  of 
wisdom ;  and,  instead  of  proudly  lording  it  over  God's 
heritage,  he  would  rule  them  in  love.  He  would  be 
gentle  among  them,  "  even  as  a  nurse  cherisheth  her 
children."  Instead  of  being  easily  provoked  by  any 
little  unintentional  infringement  on  his  rights,  or  disre- 
spect to  his  dignity,  he  would  forbear  with  that  which 
was  the  result  of  ignorance,  and  wisely  and  meekly  ex- 
postulate in  reference  to  that  which  was  the  effect  of 
impertinence.  Over  all  his  talents,  however  brilliant, 
he  would  put  the  garment  of  humility ;  and  with  respect 
to  all  his  success,  however  great,  he  would  speak  in  the 
language  of  modesty.  He  would  neither  envy  his  more 
gifted  or  successful  brethren,  nor  proudly  vaunt  over 
his  inferiors.  To  all  his  charge,  even  the  most  illiterate 
and  obscure,  he  would  conduct  himself  with  the  con- 
descension of  true  benevolence,  put  the  most  favourable 
construction  on  the  actions  of  his  people,  repose  in  them 
an  honourable  confidence,  labour  to  correct  their  er- 
22* 


246 

rors,  whether  doctrinal  or  practical,  and  have  no  greater 
joy  than  to  see  them  walking  in  the  truth. 

Christian  charity  would  also  dictate  to  the  people  to- 
tcards  their  minister,  a  line  of  conduct  no  less  pious  and 
amiable  :  it  would  lead  them  to  attach  themselves  de- 
cidedly and  warmly  to  his  person  and  ministry ;  to  de- 
monstrate, in  every  possible  way,  their  sincere  and  cor- 
dial wish  to  promote  his  comfort ;  to  abstain  from  every- 
thing that  would  grieve  his  mind ;  and,  by  every  means 
in  their  power,  to  promote  his  usefulness.  It  would 
not  allow  them  to  be  offended  by  his  faithful  rebukes, 
but  cause  them  to  submit,  with  Christian  franlcness  and 
humility,  to  his  cautions,  admonitions,  and  reproofs:  it 
would  lead  them  to  interpret,  in  a  candid  manner,  any 
little  neglects,  or  unintentional  offences :  it  would  make 
willing  and  reasonable  excuses  for  his  seeming  inatten- 
tion: it  would  cover,  and  not  expose,  his  infirmities,  if 
they  are  such  as  can  comport  with  sterling  piety:- it 
would  lead  them  to  manifest  a  becoming  respect  for  his 
office,  and  opinion : — and  whilst  it  would  leave  them  in 
full  possession  of  entire  freedom  of  thought,  and  manly 
dignity  of  conduct,  would  still  prescribe  humility  and 
reverence,  which  the  Scriptures  claim  for  those  who 
are  set  over  them  in  the  Lord. 

In  the  conduct  of  the  people  towards  each  other,  love 
would  check  all  that  irritability  which  is  excited  by  a 
word, — that  anger  which  is  cherished  till  it  ripens  into 
malice  or  revenge.  How  much  is  the  peace  of  our 
churches  disturbed  by  such  hot  or  sullen  spirits !  But 
did  this  heavenly  virtue  prevail,  care  would  be  taken  not 
to  give  offence ;  and  equal  care  would  be  in  exercise  not 
to  take  offence :  one  man  would  bridle  his  tongue,  lest 
he  should  utter  words  that  would  grieve ;  another  would 
rein  in  his  temper,  lest  he  should  be  provoked  when  he 
ought  not ;  and  all  would  be  watchful  against  whatever 
would  destroy  the  unity  of  the  spirit  and  the  bond  of 
peace.  If  any  action  has  been  done,  or  any  word 
spoken  of  a  doubtful  kind,  no  one  would  suspect  an 
evil  motive,  but  rather  be  ready  to  conclude  in  favour  of 
a  good  intention :  suspicion  would  be  displaced  by  mu- 


247 

tual  confidence,  and  hasty  imputations  of  what  is  wrong, 
by  the  belief  or  hope  of  what  is  right.  Instead  of  cir- 
culating ill  reports  of  each  other,  or  believing  them  - 
when  circulated,  all  would  entertain  too  much  good- 
will, and  too  high  an  opinion  of  their  brethren,  to  listen 
to  an  insinuation  against  them.  Universal  kindness 
would  reign  throughout  the  society ;  each  would  feel  an 
interest  in  the  whole,  and,  by  "  whatsoever  things  are 
lovely,"  would  promote  their  comfort  and  bear  their 
burdens.  There  would  be  no  struggle  for  pre-eminence, 
no  grasping  at  power :  such  pride  would  be  abhorred, 
and  all  would  be  subject  one  to  another :  the  rich  would 
not  be  puffed  up,  nor  vaunt  themselves  against  the  poor, 
nor  would  the  poor  envy  the  rich.  In  a  time  of  difficul- 
ty, such  as  the  choice  of  a  minister,  there  would  be  a 
giving  up,  as  far  as  possible,  of  individual  feeling,  and 
all  would  consider  the  general  good :  no  one  would  sel- 
fishly wish  to  have  his  taste  alone  consulted,  his  opinion 
alone  attended  to ;  no  one  would  obtrude  his  views  upon 
the  rest  in  an  unseemly  manner:  but  each  would  con- 
sult all. 

We  may  again  remark,  what  churches  we  should 
have,  if  love  were  the  ruling  principle  which  governed 
them.  "  Then  would  each  of  them  present  a  peaceful 
haven,  inviting  men  to  retire  from  the  tossings  and  pe- 
rils of  this  unquiet  ocean  to  a  sacred  enclosure,  a  se- 
questered spot,  which  the  storms  and  tempests  of  the 
world  were  not  permitted  to  invade :"  then  would  the 
prayer  of  Christ  be  answered,  and  his  people  be  one, 
and  afford  by  their  unity  a  demonstration  of  the  divinity 
of  his  mission,  which  the  most  impious  could  not  resist : 
then  would  the  church  on  earth  present  a  calm  un- 
ruffled surface,  which  should  reflect,  as  from  a  mirror,  a 
bright  resemblance  of  the  church  in  heaven.  Let  us, 
then,  for  the  honour  of  our  principles,  for  the  credit  of 
our  common  Christianity,  for  our  own  peace  and  com- 
fort in  relation  to  the  body  of  the  people, — seek  that 
more  of  this  heavenly  spirit  may  be  diffused  among  all 
who  are  called  by  the  name  of  Christ. 

How  DESIRABLE    IS    IT    THAT    SUCH  A  RELIGION  AS 


248  - 

THIS  SHOULD  BE  SPREAD  OVER  THE  FACE  OP  THE 

WHOLE  EARTH !  In  what  a  miserable  condition  is  our 
globe.  The  whole  world  lieth  in  the  wicked  one,  is 
entangled  in  the  coils,  and  bitten  by  the  fangs,  and  tor- 
tured by  the  venom,  of  the  old  serpent, — ^the  devil. 
Justly  has  the  Apostle  said,  that  "  the  whole  creation 
groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together  until  now." 
Nearly  eighteen  centuries  have  passed  since  he  saw  this 
bleeding  victim  of  Satan's  cruelty,  and  heard  its  groans ; 
and  it  is  bleeding  and  groaning  still.  Wherever  we  go, 
either  in  reality  or  in  imagination,  we  find  ourselves  in  a 
vale  of  tears,  where  forms  of  misery,  indefinitely  varied 
and  almost  innumerably  multiplied,  rise  before  our  eyes, 
and  utter  nothing  but  wo,  wo,  wo;  and  who  can 
wonder  that  our  world  should  thus  be  little  else  but  a 
region  of  misery  1  Think  upon  the  passions  which  pre- 
dominate in  human  affairs  ;  think  of  the  vile  affections, 
which,  like  furies,  tyrannize  over  the  minds  of  men : 
wrath,  malice,  revenge,  envy,  pride,  suspicions,  selfish- 
ness, cruelty,  slander, — ^these  are  the  oligarchy  of  di- 
abolical tempers,  which  usurp  the  dominion  of  the  world 
in  the  name  of  Satan,  and  which,  with  something  of  his 
power  and  of  his  fury,  torment  the  miserable  children  of 
men.  How  much  of  the  most  cruel  slavery,  the  most 
sanguinary  warfare,  the  most  remorseless  oppression, 
the  most  deadly  revenge,  the  most  operative  mischief, 
the  most  crafty  subtilty,  the  most  insulting  pride, — is 
perpetually  at  work  in  the  destruction  of  human  happi- 
ness. The  prevalence  of  love  would  put  a  stop  to  all 
this:  it  would  beat  the  sword  of  war  into  the  plough- 
share of  peace :  it  would  break  the  galling  fetter  of 
slavery,  and  bid  the  captive  go  free :  it  would  change 
the  tyrant  into  a  father :  it  would  convert  the  venom  of 
malice  into  the  milk  of  human  kindness:  it  would  trans- 
form the  crafty  serpent  into  the  innocent  dove:  it  would 
tame  the  ferocity  of  the  implacable  assassin  into  clemen- 
cy ;  and  would  teach  him  to  pronounce  forgiveness,  who 
now  breathes  out  nothing  but  slaughter :  it  would  teach 
pride  to  put  on  humility  as  a  garment :  it  would  give  to 
the  vigilant  eye  of  intelligence  the  expression  of  candour, 


249 

instead  of  the  glance  of  suspicion ;  and  would  substitute, 

for  the  torment  of  envy,  the  exquisite  delight  of  that 

sympathy  which  can  rejoice  with  those  that  do  rejoice. 

What  an  argument  for  Christian  missions  ! 

AND  what  a  motive  TO  THEIR  ZEALOUS  SUPPORT  !  ! 

We  have  already  proved  that  both  Paganism  and  Ma- 
hometanism  are  hostile  to  a  spirit  of  universal  benevo- 
lence :  if,  therefore,  the  world  is  ever  to  be  subjugated 
to  the  mild  and  beneficial  dominion  of  charity,  the  con- 
quest must  be  made  by  Christianity.  And  to  this  honour 
is  Christianity  destined:  it  was  to  this  theme  that  the 
evangelical  prophet  struck  his  lyre,  when  he  said — 
"  Out  of  Zion  shall  go  forth  the  law,  and  the  word  of 
the  Lord  from  Jerusalem.  And  he  shall  judge  among 
the  nations,  and  shall  rebuke  many  people ;  and  they 
shall  beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares,  and  their  spears 
into  pruning  hooks :  nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against 
nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more  :  but  they 
shall  sit  every  man  under  his  vine  and  under  his  fig-tree  ; 
and  none  shall  make  them  afraid."  "  And  there  shall 
come  forth  a  rod  out  of  the  stem  of  Jesse,  and  a  Branch 
shall  grow  out  of  his  roots ;  and  righteousness  shall  be 
the  girdle  of  his  loins,  and  faithfulness  the  girdle  of  his 
reins.  The  wolf  also  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the 
leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the  kid ;  and  the  calf  and  the 
young  lion  and  the  fatling  together  j  and  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them.  And  the  cow  and  the  bear  shall  feed  ; 
their  young  ones  shall  lie  down  together  :  and  the  lion 
shall  eat  straw  hke  the  ox.  And  the  sucking  child  shall 
play  on  the  hole  of  the  asp,  and  the  weaned  child  shall 
put  his  hand  in  the  cockatrice'  den.  They  shall  not  hurt 
nor  destroy  in  all  my  holy  mountain  :  for  the  earth  shall 
be  full  of. the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters  cover 
the  sea."  Such  is  the  poetic  and  beautiful  description 
which  is  given  by  the  prophet  of  the  harmonizing  and 
benevolent  tendency  of  the  Gospel,  as  well  as  of  its 
effect  wherever  its  influence  is  entirely  submitted  to. 
How  exceedingly  is  it  to  be  desired,  that  such  a  system 
should  be  universally  prevalent !  The  awful  description 
which  the  Apostle  ^ves  us  of  the  idolatry  of  his  times, 


250 

and  of  its  demoralizing  effects, — deeply  as  it  is  coloured, 
and  darkly  as  it  is  shaded, — is  not  less  justly  applicable 
to  the  Pagan  nations  of  the  present  day,  than  it  was  to 
those  of  antiquity.  "  They  have  changed  the  glory  of 
the  incorruptible  God  into  an  image  made  like  unto  cor- 
ruptible man,  and  to  birds,  and  fourfooted  beasts,  and 
creeping  things.  Who  chariged  the  truth  of  God  into  a 
lie,  and  worshipped  and  served  the  creature  more  than 
the  Creator,  who  is  blessed  for  ever !  Amen.  And  even 
as  they  did  not  like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge, 
God  gave  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind,  to  do  those 
things  which  are  not  convenient ; — ^being  filled  with  all 
unrighteousness,  fornication,  wickedness,  covetousness, 
maliciousness :  full  of  envy,  debate,  murder,  deceit,  ma- 
lignity :  whisperers,  backbiters,  haters  of  God,  despite- 
ful, proud,  inventors  of  evil  things,  disobedient  to  pa- 
rents, without  understanding,  covenant  breakers,  with- 
out natural  affection,  implacable,  unmerciful."  What 
a  picture  ! !  Who  can  contemplate  it  without  horror ! 
Yet  such  is  the  state  of  society — such  the  aspect  of  the 
moral  world — such  are  the  crimes  that  deform,  and  pol- 
lute, and  torment,  the  human  race  under  the  reign  of 
Paganism,  which,  wherever  it  exists,  converts  earth  into 
the  vestibule  of  hell,  a  den  of  wild  beasts,  a  range  of 
malignant  demons, — which  educates  men  for  fiends 
amidst  the  worst  of  excesses  of  depravity,  and  tortures 
its  victims  in  this  world  preparatory  to  their  execution  in 
the  next.  Who  that  pretends  to  carry  in  his  bosom  the 
heart  of  a  man, — much  more  who  that  professes  to  have 
the  spirit  of  a  Christian,  which  is  the  mind  of  Christ, — 
but  must  mourn  in  bitterness  of  soul  over  this  frightful 
wilderness,  and  long  to  bring  these  habitations  of  cruelty 
under  the  reign  of  love? 

Let  it  be  recollected,  that  whenever  the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ  is  felt  in  its  proper  influence  ;  whenever  it 
changes  the  heart,  and  sanctifies  the  life  ; — it  does  not 
merely  turn  men  away  from  dumb  idols,  but  causes  them 
aJso  to  deny  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  and  to  live 
soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this  present  evil 
ivorld,     It  does  not  merely  lead  to  a  change  of  names,  a 


251 

substitution  of  one  set  of  religious  rites  for  another ;  but 
while  it  removes  all  that  is  impious  in  idolatry,  it  displa- 
ces all  that  is  odious  and  abominable  in  vice.  It  pre- 
sents the  first  table  of  the  law,  and  says,  "  Thou  shall 
love  God  with  all  thy  soul ;"  and  then  holds  up  the 
second,  and  commands  us  to  love  our  neighbours  as 
ourselves.  Wherever  the  Gospel  of  Christ  is  permitted 
to  govern  society,  it  banishes  all  that  can  afflict,  and  in- 
troduces whatever  can  comfort,  the  human  race.  All 
the  crimes  and  the  curses  of  society  flee  before  it,  while 
all  the  blessings  of  earth  follow  in  its  train :  it  not  only 
brings  learning,  and  arts,  and  sciences,  with  all  that  can 
adorn  the  mind  and  embellish  life,  but,  as  its  chief  bene- 
fit, it  establishes  the  reign  of  charity.  This  it  has  done 
to  a  considerable  extent  in  many  places  already;  and 
even  its  enemies  have  acknowledged  it.  And  he  that 
would  see  what  religion  can  do,  has  done,  and  will  yet 
do,  in  exalting  benevolence  on  the  ruins  of  cruelty,  and 
in  establishing  the  reign  of  mercy, — let  him  contemplate, 
as  he  may  do,  through  the  medium  of  missionary  reports, 
the  once  wild  and  savage  Esquimaux,  converted  into 
peaceful,  harmless,  andbenevolentfollowersofthemeek 
and  lowly  Jesus ;  or  the  once  murdei-ous  Otaheitans, 
who  revelled  in  the  blood  of  human  sacrifices,  and  slaugh- 
tered without  remorse  their  own  children,  now  exhibiting 
a  character  remarkable  for  its  clemency  and  gentleness ; 
or  the  once  marauding  tribes  of  South  Africa,  casting 
away  their  poisoned  arrows,  and  their  assagays,  and  ex- 
hibiting a  moral  transformation  as  great  and  striking,  as 
if  the  lions,  that  prowled  around  their  tents,  were  chang- 
ed by  miracles  into  lambs.  And  are  these  the  triumphs 
of  that  religion,  of  which  the  many  branches,  and  the 
multiplied  duties,  are  summed  up  in  that  one  word — 
Love  "? 

Friends  of  humanity !  by  all  the  love  you  bear  to  God 
or  man,  I  conjure  you  to  labour  to  the  uttermost  in  ex- 
tending the  religion  you  profess.  Estimate,  if  you  can, 
the  deep  guilt  of  neglecting  the  cause  of  Christian  mis- 
sions. None  of  you  have  done  what  you  could  have 
done,  or  what  you  ought  to  do,  in  this  most  sacred,  most 


252 

important  cause.  I  ask,  what  proportion  of  your  pro- 
perty ought  to  be  put  in  requisition  forpromoting  the  uni- 
versal reign  of  charity  ?  Is  a  tenth,  or  a  fifth,  or  a  third, 
enough  for  that  cause,  the  object  of  which  is  to  teach  all 
men  that  dwell  on  the  earth  to  love  God  supremely,  and 
each  other  as  themselves  1 — enough  to  be  given  for  the 
purpose  of  cementing  the  whole  human  family  together 
in  a  union  of  affection? — enough  to  give  to  a  cause, 
which,  when  it  is  completely  victorious, — and  complete- 
ly victorious  it  will  be, — will  banish  pride,  and  malice, 
and  envy,  and  revenge,  from  the  abodes  of  man  1  How 
can  you  live  in  splendour — how  can  you  enjoy  your 
luxuries — how  can  you  dwell  with  delight  upon  your 
accumulating  hoards  of  wealth, — while  all  this  is  want- 
ing to  extend  the  influence  of  religion  ? — Alas !  alas  ! 
because  you  have  so  little  of  it  in  your  own  soul.  Chris- 
tian benevolence,  were  it  felt  in  its  full  force,  would  lead 
to  self-denial,  to  economy,  to  simple  habits,  to  personal 
sacrifices, — in  order  that  you  may  have  more  to  spare 
for  the  great  object  of  Christian  missions. 

But  in  addition  to  your  property,  and  your  influence, 
give  to  the  cause  of  missions  your  private,  sincere,  fer- 
vent, believing,  and  constant  prayers.  It  is  only  by  the  • 
power  of  the  Divine,  Omnipotent  Spirit,  that  the  king- 
dom of  Christ  can  be  established  in  this  selfish  world. 
Read  the  chapter  which  we  have  considered, — compare 
with  it  the  present  state  of  mankind, — and  then  say  if 
aught  but  the  same  power  which  called  the  chaos  out  of 
nothing,  and  raised  this  fair  and  beautiful  world  out  of 
chaos,  can  effect  a  transformation  so  astonishing  and 
sublime  as  would  be  aff'ected,  if  this  region  of  dark  and 
vengeful  passions  were  converted  into  an  abode  of  holy, 
and  mild,  and  benevolent  affections.  Beseech  Jehovah 
daily,  that  he  would  arise  and  plead  his  own  cause  ;  for 
surely  love  must  be  eminently  the  cause  of  him  who  is 
infinite  in  goodness,  and  delighteth  in  mercy.  Give  him 
no  rest  till,  in  answer  to  believing  and  earnest  prayer,  he 
shall  say,  "  Behold,  I  create  new  heavens,  and  a  new 
earth :  and  the  former  shall  not  be  remembered,  nor 
come  into  mind.     But  be  ye  glad  and  rejoice  for  ever  in 


253 

that  which  I  create  :  for,  behold,  I  create  Jerusalem  a 
rejoicing,  and  her  people  a  joy.  And  I  will  rejoice  in 
Jerusalem,  and  joy  in  my  people :  and  the  voice  of  weep- 
ing shall  be  no  more  heard  in  her,  nor  the  voice  of  cry- 
ing.— And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  before  they  call,  I 
will  answer;  and  whilst  they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will 
hear.  The  wolf  and  the  lamb  shall  feed  together,  and 
the  lion  shall  eat  straw  like  the  bullock :  and  dust  shall 
be  the  serpent's  meat.  They  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy 
in  all  my  holy  mountain,  saith  the  Lord." 


SS 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


IMPROVEMENT,    BY    WAY    OP    EXAMINATION    AND    HU- 
MILIATION. 


Selp-examination  is  the  duty  of  every  Christiaiij 
not  merely  that  he  may  ascertain  whether  his  faith  be 
genuine,  but  whether  it  be  sufficiently  operative.  It 
ought  not  to  be  a  frequent  and  undecided  question  with 
any  one, — "  Am  I  in  reality  a  child  of  God  1"  but  it 
should  be  a  constantly  recurring  inquiry,  "  Is  there  any 
one  branch  of  religious  obligation,  which,  through  the 
deceitfulness  of  the  human  heart,  I  do  not  feel  1  or, 
through  a  criminal  heedlessness,  I  habitually  neglect  ?" 
The  object  of  self-examination,  with  a  believer,  is  to 
supply  those  defects  in  his  graces,  and  to  put  away  those 
remains  of  his  corruptions,  which,  though  they  may  not 
prove  that  he  has  no  piety,  prove  that  he  has  less  than 
he  ought  to  have.  For  this  purpose,  he  should  often 
bring  his  actions  and  his  motives  to  the  standard,  and 
try  his  whole  profession  ;  as  well  what  he  does  that  he 
should  not  do,  as  what  he  does  not  that  he  should  do. 
If  we  are  to  exhort  one  another  daily,  lest  any  of  us  be 
hardened  through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin,  we  surely 
ought  to  examine  ourselves  daily,  for  the  same  reason. 
Our  guilty  self-love  is  perpetually  attempting  to  throw  a 
veil  over  the  sinful  infirmities  of  our  nature — to  hide 
their  criminality  from  our  view  ;  and  thus  to  keep  us  in 


255 

a  state  of  false  peace,  by  keeping  us  in  ignorance. 
Against  this  deceitfulness  of  our  heart,  we  can  only  be 
guarded  by  a  frequent  and  close  examination  of  our 
whole  selves. 

A  frequent  examination  of  our  hearts  and  conduct 
is  necessary,  because  of  the  multitude  of  our  daily  sins, 
which  are  often  so  minute  as  to  escape  the  observation 
of  a  careless  and  superficial  glance,  and  so  numerous 
as  to  be  forgotten  from  one  day  to  another ;  and  so, 
they  either  come  not  into  notice,  or  pass  out  of  recol- 
lection :  and  therefore  they  should  be  summed  up  every 
evening,  and  repented  of,  and  forgiven,  before  we  com- 
pose ourselves  to  sleep, — ^that  nightly  returning  harbin- 
ger, and  monitor,  and  image,  of  approaching  death. 
The  advantages  of  frequent  examination  are  so  many 
and  so  great,  as  to  recommend  the  practice  strongly  to 
all  who  are  deeply  anxious  about  the  welfare  of  their 
souls ;  by  this  means  we  shall  not  only  detect  many 
sins  which  would  otherwise  be  lost  in  our  attention  to 
greater  ones,  but  we  shall  more  easily  destroy  them, 
and  more  speedily  revive  our  languishing  graces  ;  just 
as  a  wound  may  with  greater  facility  be  cured  while  it 
is  yet  fresh  and  bleeding,  and  an  extinguished  taper, 
while  yet  it  retains  a  strong  sympathy  for  light,  may  be 
rekindled,  either  by  the  near  contact  of  a  neighbouring 
flame,  or  by  the  timely  application  of  a  little  well  direct- 
ed breath.  "  Sins  are  apt  to  cluster  and  combine,  when 
either  we  are  in  love  with  small  sins,  or  when  they  pro- 
ceed, from  a  careless  and  incurious  spirit,  into  frequency 
and  continuance  ;  but  we  may  easily  keep  them  asun- 
der by  our  daily  prayers,  and  our  nightly  examinations, 
and  our  severe  sentences :  "  for  he  that  despiseth  little 
things,"  said  the  son  of  Sirach,  "  shall  perish  by  little 
and  little."  A  frequent  examination  of  our  actions 
will  tend  to  keep  the  conscience  clear,  so  that  the  least 
fresh  spot  will  be  more  easily  seen ;  and  so  tender,  that 
the  least  new  pressure  will  be  felt ;  for  that  which  comes 
upon  an  already  blotted  page  is  scarcely  discerned,  and 
that  which  is  added  to  an  already  great  accumulation 
is  hardly  seen  or  felt.     This,  also,  is  the  best  way  to 


256 

make  our  repentance  pungent  and  particular.  But 
on  this  subject  we  shall  have  more  to  say  presently.  If 
self-examination  be  neglected  for  want  of  opportunity, 
it  is  plain  that  those,  at  least,  who  have  their  time  at 
their  own  command  and  disposal  are  far  too  deeply  in- 
volved in  the  business  of  the  world  and  the  labyrinths 
of  care :  no  man  ought  to  allow  himself  to  be  so  taken 
up  in  looking  into  his  secular  pursuits,  as  to  have  no 
time  to  look  into  the  state  of  his  soul ;  and  to  be  so 
greedy  after  gain,  or  so  intent  upon  the  objects  of  an 
earthly  ambition,  as  to  be  careless  about  examining 
whether  we  are  growing  in  grace,  and  increasing  in  the 
riches  of  faith  and  love,  discovers  a  mind  which  either 
has  no  religion  at  all,  or  has  reason  to  fear  that  it  has 
none. 

But  besides  that  cursory  retrospect  which  we  should 
take  every  evening  of  the  conduct  of  the  day,  a  por- 
tion of  time  should  be  frequently  set  apart  for  the  pur- 
pose of  instituting  a  more  minute  and  rigid  inquiry  into 
the  state  of  our  personal  piety;  when,  taking  in  our 
hand  the  Word  of  God,  we  should  descend  with  this 
candle  of  the  Lord  into  the  dark  and  deep  recesses  of 
the  heart,  enter  every  secret  chamber,  and  pry  into 
every  comer  to  ascertain  if  anything  be  hiding  itself 
there  which  is  contrary  to  the  mind  and  will  of  God. 
Many  standards  will  be  found  in  the  Scriptures,  all  con- 
curring with  each  other  in  general  purpose  and  princi- 
ples, by  which  this  investigation  of  our  spirits  should  be 
conducted.     We  now  propose  the  law  of  love. 

On  these  occasions  of  introspection,  we  should  in- 
quire how  far  our  faith  is  working  by  love.  I  will  con- 
ceive of  a  professing  Christian  who  has  set  apart  a  por- 
tion of  time, — say  on  a  Saturday  evening,  before  he  is 
to  eat  on  the  next  day  the  Lord's  supper ;  or  on  a  Sab- 
bath evening,  when  he  has  received  the  sacramental 
memorials  of  the  Saviour's  love,  to  examine  into  the 
state,  not  only  of  his  conduct,  but  the  frame  and  temper 
of  his  spirit.  He  is  anxious  to  know  how  far  he  is  liv- 
ing so  as  to  please  God.  We  can  imagine  him,  after 
having  read  the  Scriptures,  presenting  his  fervent  sup- 


257 

plications  to  God,  in  the  language  of  the  Psalmist,  and 
saying,  "  Search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart ;  try 
me,  and  know  my  thoughts ;  and  see  if  there  be  any 
wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting." 
He  now  enters  upon  the  business  of  self-examination ; 
and  the  subject  of  inquiry  that  evening  is  the  frame  of 
his  heart  towards  his  fellow  creatures,  the  state  of  his 
mind  in  reference  to  the  law  of  love,  the  measure  of 
his  charity,  and  the  infirmities  of  his  temper.  Hear  his 
holy  colloquies  with  himself.  "  I  have  no  just  reason, 
thanks  be  to  sovereign  grace !  to  question  whether  I 
have  received  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  the  Gospel. 
I  believe  my  creed  is  sound ;  nor  have  I  any  serious 
ground  for  suspecting  the  sincerity  of  my  faith,  or  the 
reality  of  my  conversion :  my  conduct,  too,  so  far  as 
the  estimate  of  man  goes,  has,  through  the  help  of  God, 
been  free  from  immorality.  And  though  I  may  with- 
out presumption  say  that  I  love  God,  yet  I  am  covered 
with  confusion  that  my  love  is  so  weak  and  lukewarm. 
But  my  solemn  business  at  this  time  is,  to  examine  into 
the  state  and  measure  of  my  Christian  charity;  for  I 
am  persuaded  that  whatever  knowledge,  or  faith,  or 
seeming  raptures,  or  supposed  communion  with  God, 
I  may  lay  claim  to, — I  am  but  a  very  imperfect  Chris- 
tian, if  I  am  considerably  deficient  in  love.  Taking 
the  apostolic  description  of  this  lovely  virtue,  I  will 
bring  my  heart  to  the  test. 

"  Do  I  then  love,  in  his  sense  of  the  word  1  Is  my 
heart  a  partaker  of  this  disposition  1  Is  the  selfishness 
of  my  corrupt  nature  subdued,  and  made  to  give  way 
to  a  spirit  of  universal  benevolence;  so  that  I  can 
truly  say  I  rejoice  in  happiness,  and  am  conscious  of  a 
continual  benevolent  sympathy  with  universal  being, 
and  of  a  perpetual  efflux  of  good- will  to  all  creatures  1 
Do  I  feel  as  if  my  own  happiness  were  receiving  con- 
stant accessions  from  the  happiness  of  others ;  and  that 
my  soul,  instead  of  living  in  her  own  little  world  within, 
an  alien  from  the  commonwealth  of  mankind,  indiffer- 
ent to  all  but  herself,  is  in  union  and  communion  with 
my  species  1  In  short,  do  I  know  the  meaning  of  the 
33* 


258 

Apostle's  emphatic  expression,  *  He  that  dwelleth  in 
love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him  V  But  let  me 
descend  to  particulars. 

"  What  do  I  know  of  the  forbearance  of  love  1  Can  I 
suffer  long,  or  am  I  easily  provoked  1  Am  I  patient 
under  provocation ;  restraining  my  anger ;  keeping  my 
wrath  in  subjection  under  the  most  provoking  insults, 
amidst  the  basest  ingratitude,  or  the  most  irritating 
scorn  1  In  my  intercourse  with  my  brethren  in  Christ, 
am  I  quick  to  take  offence  by  any  real  or  supposed 
slight  or  impertinence  1  Am  I  so  jealous  of  my  own  dig- 
nity, so  sensitive,  and  irritable,  as  to  be  roused  to  anger 
by  any  little  offence,  and  transported  to  wrath  by  more 
serious  provocations'?  Am  I  revengeful  under  injuries  ; 
brooding  over  them  in  silence,  cherishing  the  remem- 
brance, and  reviving  the  recollection  of  them,  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  retaliate,  and  rejoicing  in  the  suf- 
ferings which  come  upon  those  that  injure  me  1  or  am 
I  easily  conciliated,  most  forward  to  forgive,  and  ever 
ready  to  return  good  for  evil  1  How  have  I  acted  since 
my  last  season  of  self-examination  in  these  particulars  1 
Let  me  call  to  recollection  my  conduct,  that  I  may  see 
how  far  I  have  practised  the  duty,  and  exhibited  the  ex- 
cellence of  Christian  meekness. 

"  Charity  is  kind.  Is  kindness — universal,  constant, 
operative  kindness — characteristic  of  my  conductl  Is 
the  law  of  kindness  on  my  lips,  ifs  smile  upon  my  coun- 
tenance, and  its  activity  in  my  life  1  or  am  I  uncivil  and 
uncourteous  in  speech,  frowning  and  repulsive  in  my 
aspect,  grudging  and  unfrequent  in  acts  of  generosity  1 
Have  I  the  character,  among  my  neighbours  and  ac- 
quaintance, of  a  man  who  can  be  always  depended 
upon  for  a  favour,  when  it  is  needed  1  or,  on  the  con- 
trary, am  I  by  general  report,  a  very  unlikely  person  to 
lend  a  helping  hand  to  a  person  in  necessity  1  Are  there 
any  instances  of  unkindness  which  I  can  now  call  to  re- 
membrance, which  have  brought  dishonour  upon  my 
reputation,  guilt  upon  my  conscience,  reproach  upon 
the  cause  of  religion,  and  for  which,  therefore,  I  ought 
to  seek  the  pardon  of  God  through  Christ ! 


259 

"  Charity  envieth  not.  Am  I  subject  to  the  torment- 
ing influence  of  that  truly  diabolical  temper  by  which 
a  person  is  made  miserable  in  himself,  and  to  hate  his 
neighbour  or  rival,  on  account  of  that  neighbour's  or 
rival's  distinctions  ]  Am  I  so  truly  infernal  in  my  dis- 
positions, as  to  sicken  and  pine  at  the  sight  of  the  suc- 
cess or  happiness  of  others,  and  to  cherish  ill  will  on 
that  account  towards  them]  When  I  hear  another 
praised  and  commended,  do  I  feel  a  burning  of  heart 
within,  and  an  inclination  to  detract  from  their  fame, 
and  to  lower  them  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  ap- 
plaud them ;  and  do  I  secretly  rejoice  when  anything 
occurs  to  lessen  and  lower  them  in  public  opinion,  or 
to  strip  them  of  those  distinctions  which  render  them  the 
objects  of  our  dislike  ?  or  do  I  possess  that  true  spirit  oi 
love,  which  constrains  me  to  rejoice  with  those  that  re- 
joice, to  feel  pleased  with  their  prosperity,  and  to  con- 
sider their  happinesss  as  an  accession  to  my  own  ? 
Have  I,  indeed,  that  benevolence  which  delights  so  truly 
in  felicity,  as  to  make  me  glad  at  seeing  it  in  the  posses- 
sion of  an  enemy  or  a  rival  *? 

"  Charity  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  vp.  Is  this 
descriptive  of  my  spirit,  in  reference  to  my  own  attain- 
ments and  achievements  1  Am  I  lowly  in  my  own  eyes, 
clothed  with  humility,  modest  in  the  estimate  I  form  of 
myself,  and  all  that  belongs  to  me  1  or  am  I  proiid,  vain, 
and  ostentatious ;  valuing  and  admiring  myself  on  the 
ground  of  any  personal,  civil,  ecclesiastical,  or  spiritual 
distinctions.  Am  I  fond  of  exciting  admiration,  and 
obtaining  applause  1  or  am  I  content  with  the  approba- 
tion of  my  own  conscience,  and  the  smile  of  God  1  Do 
I  wish  to  make  others  feel  their  inferiority,  and  to  suffer 
under  a  mortifying  sense  of  it  1  or  do  I,  from  the  most 
tender  regard  to  their  comfort,  conceal,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, any  superiority  I  may  have  over  them  ;  and  make 
them  easy  and  happy  in  my  company]  Do  I  indulge 
in  haughty  airs,  or  maintain  a  kind  affability  and  an 
amiable  condescension  ] 

"  Charity  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly.  Is  it  my 
study  not  to  give  uneasiness  and  offence,  by  anything 


260 

unsuitable  to  my  age,  sex,  rank,  station  and  circum- 
stances ;  anything  rude,  rough,  impertinent,  or  unbe- 
coming 1  or  am  I  continually  disturbing  the  comfort  of 
those  around  me,  by  indecorous  and  unsuitable  be- 
haviour ? 

"  Charity  seeketh  not  her  own.  Am  I  habitually  sel- 
fish,— anxious  only  for  my  own  gratification,  and  build- 
ing up  my  comfort  to  ihe  annoyance  or  neglect  of 
others  1  Am  I  indulging  a  penurious,  avaricious  dispo- 
sition,— feasting  upon  luxuries,  and  refusing  to  minister 
to  the  relief  of  human  misery,  according  to  the  propor- 
tion in  which  God  has  blessed  me  1  or  am  I  diffusing 
iabroad  my  substance,  considering  that  I  am  only  a  stew- 
ard of  what  I  hold,  and  must  account  for  it  all  1  Am  I 
overbearing  and  intolerant  in  discussion  and  debate, — 
wanting  others  to  sacrifice  their  views,  in  order  that  1 
may  have  every  thing  my  own  wayl  or  am  I  willing  to 
concede  and  yield,  and  disposed  to  give  up  my  own  will 
to  the  general  opinion,  and  for  the  general  good  1 

"  Charity  thmketh  no  evil.  Am  I  suspicious,  and 
apt  to  impute  bad  motives  to  men's  conduct  ?  or  am  I 
generous  and  confiding — prone  to  think  the  best  that 
truth  will  allow  ?  Am  I  censorious,  or  candid  ?  Do 
I  feel  more  in  haste  to  condemn,  than  to  excuse,  and 
more  eager  to  blame  than  to  exculpate  ? 

"  Charity  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the 
tt^th.  What  is  my  disposition  toward  those  who  are 
my  opponents  ?  do  1  delight  in,  or  mourn  over,  their 
faults  ?  Do  I  so  love  them,  as  to  be  glad  when,  by 
their  regard  to  truth  and  righteousness,  they  raise  them- 
selves in  public  esteem ;  and  to  be  sorry  when  they  in- 
jure their  own  cause,  and  give  me  an  advantage  over 
them  by  their  errors  and  sins  1  Have  I  made  that  high 
attainment  in  virtue  and  piety,  which  leads  me  to  delight 
in  the  righteousness  of  a  rival,  even  when  it  may  seem 
to  exalt  him?  or  am  I  still  so  destitute  of  love,  as  to  say, 
in  reference  to  his  faults,  *  Ah  !  so  would  I  have  it  V 

"  Charity  covereth  all  things.  Am  I  prone  and  anx- 
ious to  conceal  the  failings  of  others,  or  to  expose  them  1 
*  Believeth  all  things.'     Am  I  credulous  of  whatever  is 


261 

to  the  advantage  of  a  brother  ?  *  Hopeth  all  things.' 
Where  the  evidence  is  not  enough  to  warrant  belief, 
do  I  indulge  an  expectation  and  desire  that  farther 
knowledge  may  explain  the  matter  favourably  1 

"  Charity  endureth  all  things.  Am  I  willing  to  make 
any  exertion,  to  bear  any  hardship,  to  sustain  any  rea- 
sonable loss,  for  the  peace  and  welfare  of  others  1  or 
am  I  so  fond  of  ease,  so  indolent,  so  selfish,  as  to  give 
nothing  but  mere  ineffectual  wishes  for  their  comfort 
and  well  being  1 

"  What  measure  of  holy  love  have  I, — of  that  love 
which  puts  forth  its  energies  in  such  operations  as  these*? 
Do  I  so  love  God,  and  feel  such  a  sense  of  his  love  to 
me,  as  to  have  my  soul  transformed  into  this  divine  tem- 
per? Does  the  love  of  Christ  thus  constrain  me  1  Am 
I  so  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  that  stupendous 
displa}  of  divine  benevolence,  that  unparalleled  mani- 
festation of  infinite  mercy,  which  was  made  in  the  cross 
of  the  Son  of  God,  as  to  find  the  selfishness  of  my  na-, 
ture  melted,  and  all  its  enmities  subdued,  by  this  most 
amazing  and  transporting  scene  1  I  feel,  that  without 
love,  I  cannot  have  entered  into  the  meaning  and  de- 
sign, the  moral  force  and  beauty  of  the  great  atone- 
ment ;  that  I  can  have  no  disposition  which  properly 
corresponds  to  that  august  and  interesting  spectacle.  I 
see  that  knowledge  is  not  enough,  that  belief  is  not 
enough,  that  ecstacy  is  not  enough,  that  hope  is  not 
enough  ;  that,  in  fact  nothing  can  come  up  to  the  de- 
mands, to  the  spirit,  to  the  design,  of  a  religion  which 
has  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  its  central 
object,  and  grand  support,  and  distinguishing  glory,— 
but  a  temper  of  universal  and  practical  benevolence. 
Have  I  this?     If  so.  How  much  of  if?" 

Such  should  be  the  subject  of  diligent  and  frequent 
examination  to  every  professing  Christian. 

Humiliation  should  follow  examination. 

The  act  of  humbling  and  abasing  ourselves  before 
God,  is  a  part  of  the  duty — not  only  of  sinners,  when 
they  make  their  first  application  to  the  mercy  seat  for 


262 

pardon — ^but  of  believers,  through  every  successive 
stage  of  their  Christian  career.  As  long  as  we  are  the 
subjects  of  sin,  we  ought  also  to  be  the  subjects  of  con- 
trition. We  may,  thi'ough  sovereign  grace,  have  been 
justified  by  faith,  and  have  been  brought  into  a  state  of 
peace  with  God  ;  but  this  does  not  render  a  very  hum- 
bling sense  and  confession  of  our  sins  an  exercise  inap- 
propriate to  our  state,  any  more  than  it  is  inconsistent 
with  the  relationship  of  a  child  to  humble  himself  before 
his  father,  for  those  defects  in  his  obedience,  which, 
though  they  do  not  set  aside  his  sonship,  are  unworthy 
of  it.  "  If  we  say  we  have  no  sin,"  says  the  Apostle, 
"  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  us." 
This  language  applies  to  believers,  and  not  merely  to 
unconverted  sinners ;  and  so  does  that  which  follows — 
"  If  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is  faithful  and  just  to  for- 
give us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteous- 
ness." The  most  perfect  assurance  of  hope  does  not 
release  us  from  the  duty  of  abasing  ourselves  before 
God  ;  and  if  an  angel  were  sent  to  assure  us  that  we 
are  in  a  state  of  acceptance  with  heaven,  we  should 
still  lie  under  obligation  to  cultivate  a  contrite  and  peni- 
tential frame  of  mind.  Sin,  and  not  merely  punish- 
ment, is  the  ground  of  humiliation.  It  is  the  most  de- 
testable selfishness  to  imagine,  that,  because  we  are 
freed  from  the  penal  consequences  of  sin,  we  are  un- 
der no  obligation  to  lie  low  in  the  dust.  With  what 
unutterable  disgust  we  should  look  upon  the  individual 
who,  because  his  life  had  been  spared  by  royal  clemen- 
cy, when  it  might  have  been  taken  by  national  justice, 
acted,  after  his  pardon,  as  if  that  very  pardon  had  en- 
titled him  to  forget  his  crime,  and  to  live  as  carelessly 
and  as  confidently  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  never 
sinned.  A  pardoned  sinner — and  no  believer  is  any- 
thing more — should  ever  be  a  humble  and  self-abased 
creature  in  the  sight  of  God. 

The  subject  we  are  now  upon  shows  us  what  cause 
there  is  for  humiliation  before  God.  This  frame  of 
mind  should  not  be  founded  upon,  or  produced,  by 
mere  general  views  of  our  depraved  nature,  but  by  par- 


263 

ticular  apprehensions  in  reference  to  sinful  practice ;  as 
long  as  our  confessions  are  confined  to  mere  acknow- 
ledgements of  a  depraved  nature,  our  convictions  of  sin 
are  not  likely  to  be  very  deep,  nor  our  sorrow  for  it 
very  pungent.  Such  confessions  will  usually  sink  into 
mere  formal  and  sorrowless  acknowledgements  of 
transgressions.  It  is  by  descending  to  details ;  it  is  the 
lively  view  and  deep  conviction  of  specific  acts  of 
transgressions,  or  defects  in  virtue ; — that  awakens  and 
sharpens  the  conscience,  and  brings  the  soul  to  feel 
that  godly  sorrow  which  worketh  repentance.  One 
distinctly  ascertained  defect  or  transgression^-es- 
pecially  if  it  be  much  dwelt  upon  in  its  extent,  and  in- 
fluence, and  aggravations — will  do  more  to  humble  the 
soul,  than  hours  spent  in  mere  general  confessions  of  a 
depraved  nature. 

There  are  many  things,  on  the  ground  of  which  no 
self-abasement  can  be  felt  by  the  Christian  who  is  walk- 
ing in  any  degree  of  religious  consistency.     He  cannot 
confess  that  which  he  has  really  not  been  guilty  of:  he 
cannot  be  humbled  on  account  of  any  act  of  open  im- 
morality, for  he  has  committed  none.     In  reference  to 
actual  vice,  he  is  to  be  thankful,  not  humble  :  he  is  to 
be  humble,  indeed,  that  he  has  a  nature  capable  of  it,  if 
left  of  God  ;  but  he  is  to  be  thankful  that  he  has  not 
been  permitted  thus  to  disgrace  himself     It  is  some- 
times to  be  regretted  that  good  people,  in  their  public 
confessions  of  sin,  are  not  more  definite  than  they  are, 
and  that  they  do  not  express  the  particular  sins  for 
which  they  seek  forgiveness  of  God.     Without  using 
language  that  seems  applicable  to  adultery,  and  robbe- 
ry, and  drunkenness,  our  defects  in  all  Christian  gra- 
ces are  so  numerous  and  so  great,  that  there  is  no  de- 
gree of  humiliation  which  is  too  deep  for  those  defects 
and  omissions  of  which  the  holiest  man  is  guilty  before 
God.     And  we  have  no  need  to  go  beyond  the  subject 
of  this  treatise,  to  find  how  exceedingly  sinful  and  vile 
we  must  all  be  in  the  sight  of  God.     Let  us  only  call  to 
remembrance  the  truly  sublime  description  which  the 
Apostle  has  given  us  of  the  divine  nature,  and  to  which, 


'  264 

of  necessity,  we  have  so  often  referred, — *'  God  is  love," 
— infinite,  pure,  and  operative  love ;  let  us  only  recollect 
his  wonderful  patience,  his  diffusive  kindness,  his  aston- 
ishing mercy  even  to  his  enemies  ; — and  then  consider 
that  it  is  our  duty  to  be  like  him — to  have  a  disposition 
which,  in  pure,  patient,  and  operative  benevolence, 
ought  to  resemble  his ;  that  this  was  once  our  nature, 
and  will  be  again,  if  we  reach  the  celestial  state :  and 
surely  in  such  a  recollection,  we  shall  find  a  convincing 
proof  of  our  present  exceeding  sinfulness. 

Let  it  not  be  replied,  that  this  is  subjecting  us  to  too 
severe  a  test.  By  what  test  can  we  try  our  hearts,  but 
the  law  of  God  1  What  a  proof  is  it  of  sin,  when  we  find 
that  the  instances  in  which  we  have  committed  it  are  so 
numerous,  that  we  want  to  get  rid  of  the  law  by  which 
it  is  proved  and  detected  1  Oh  !  what  a  fallen  nature  is 
ours,  and  how  low  has  it  sunk  !  We  are  not  now  ex- 
amining it  in  its  worst  state,  as  it  is  seen  among  Pagans 
and  savages,  or  even  the  best  of  the  heathen ;  nor  as  it 
is  seen  in  the  worst  parts  of  Christendom  ;  nor  as  it  ap- 
pears in  the  best  of  the  unrenewed  portions  of  man- 
kind ; — no ;  but  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the  Church  of 
Christ,  m  the  enlightened  and  sanctified  portions  of  the 
family  of  man. 

Must  we  not,  after  this  survey,  exclaim  with  the 
Psalmist — "  Who  can  understand  his  errors  ?  cleanse 
thou  me  from  secret  faults  !"  Who  can  carry  in  his 
bosom  a  proud  heart,  or  on  his  brow  a  lofty  mien  ? 
Who  can  look  with  complacency  upon  bis  poor  starve- 
ling graces,  and  doat  with  fond  and  pharisaic  eyes  upon 
his  own  righteousness  1  Who  is  not  stiipped  at  once, 
in  his  own  view,  of  all  his  imperfect  virtues ;  and  pre- 
sented to  his  own  contemplation  in  the  naked  deformity 
of  a  poor,  sinful,  and  imperfect  creature,  who  has  no 
ground  for  pride,  but  most  ample  and  abundant  cause 
for  the  deepest  humiliation  ?  Let  the  men  who  value 
themselves  so  highly  on  the  ground  of  their  moral  digni- 
ty, and  who  are  regarded  by  others  as  almost  sinless  cha- 
racters, and  who  feel  as  if  they  had  little  or  no  occasion 
for  the  exercbe  of  a  penitential  frame  of  mind  ;  who 


265 

pity  as  fanaticism,  or  scorn  as  liypocrisy,  those  lowly 
confessions  which  Christians  make  at  the  footstool 
of  the  divine  throne ; — let  them  come  to  this  ordeal 
and  try  themselves  by  this  standard,  that  they  may  learn 
how  ill  grounded  is  their  pride,  and  how  little  occa- 
sion they  have  to  boast  of  their  virtue  !  Would  they 
like  that  any  human  eye  should  be  able  to  trace  all  the 
movements  of  their  hearts,  and  see  all  the  workings  of 
envy,  and  suspicion,  and  wrath,  and  selfishness,  which 
the  eye  of  Deity  so  often  sees  there  1  Say  not  that  these 
are  only  the  infirmities  of  our  nature,  to  which  the  wisest 
and  the  best  of  the  human  race  are  ever  subject  in  this 
world  of  imperfection  ;  because  this  is  confessing  how 
deeply  depraved  is  mankind,  even  in  their  best  state. 
Can  envy,  and  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  suspicion, 
and  revenge,  be  looked  upon  as  mere  piccadilloes, 
which  call  for  neither  humiUation  nor  grief?  Are  they 
not  the  germs  of  all  those  crimes  which  have  deluged 
the  earth  with  blood,  filled  it  with  misery,  and  caused 
the  whole  creation  to  groan  together  until  now  1  Mur- 
ders, treasons,  wars,  massacres,  with  all  the  lighter 
crimes  of  robberies,  extortions,  and  oppressions,  have  all 
sprung  up  from  these  passions. 

What  need,  then,  have  we  all  of  that  great  sacrifice 
which  beareth  away  the  sin  of  the  world?  and  what  need 
of  a  perpetually  recurring  application,  by  faith  and  re- 
pentance, to  that  blood  which  speaketh  better  things 
than  the  blood  of  Abel,  and  which  cleanseth  from  all 
sin  1  What  cause  have  we  to  repair  nightly  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy  ;  and  daily,  that  we 
may  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need.  With  the  eye 
of  faith  upon  the  propitiatory  offering  that  was  presented 
to  Divine  justice  by  the  Son  of  God  upon  the  cross,  let 
us  continually  approach  the  awful  Majesty  of  heaven 
and  earth,  saying — "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner!" 


24 


CHAPTER  XX. 


IMPROVEMENT,  BY  WAY  OF  EXHORTATION. 


Love  may  be  enforced  upon  us  by  a  consideration  of, 

1 .    Our  own  peace  and  comfort. 

We  are  not  to  be  indifferent  to  our  own  happiness ; 
we  cannot  be :  man  can  no  more  will  his  own  misery,  or 
be  careless  about  his  own  comfort,  than  he  can  cease  to 
exist.  To  seek  for  enjoyment  is  the  first  law  of  our  exist- 
ence— an  inherent  and  inseparable  propensity  of  our  na- 
ture. In  this  respect,  the  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  the 
just  above,  agree  with  man  upon  the  earth.  There  is 
no  sin,  therefore,  in  desiring  to,  be  happy ;  we  could  not 
do  otherwise,  if  we  would.  Ever  since  the  entrance  of 
sin,  however,  the  heart  is  corrupted  inr  its  taste,  so  as  to 
put  evil  for  good  ;  and,  mistaking  the  nature  of  happi- 
ness, man  of  course  mistakes  the  way  to  obtain  it.  All 
the  pursuits  of  the  world,  however  varying,  and  how- 
ever unlawful,  are  the  operations  of  this  propensity  ol 
the  human  mind ;  they  are  all  but  so  many  etforts  to  ob- 
tain happiness.  To  this  feeling  of  the  human  bosom 
many  of  the  most  comprehensive,  beautiful,  and  encou- 
raging invitations  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  arc  addressed  ; 
and  it  is  at  once  the  glory  and  the  peculiarity  of  the  Gos- 
pel, that  it  addresses  itself  first,  not  to  our  moral,  but  to 
our  natural,  wants.  It  meets  us,  not  as  craving  after  holi- 
ness, for  of  this  an  unenlightened,  unconverted  sinner 


267 

knows  nothing;  but  as  craving  after  happiness, — a  de- 
sire common  to  every  human  bosom  :  this  is  the  mean- 
ing of  that  exquisite  language  with  which  the  Apostle 
almost  closes  the  Word  of  God — "  The  Spirit  and  the 
bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  hrareth  say,  Come. 
And  let  him  that  is  athirst  come.  And  whosoever  will, 
let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely."  The  same  view 
appertains  to  the  language  of  the  Prophet — "  Ho,  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters."  The  thirst 
here  mentioned  is  not,  as  has  been  frequently  but  erro- 
neously stated,  the  strong  desire  of  a  convinced  sinner 
after  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel ;  but  that  of  a  misera- 
ble creature  after  happiness.  The  persons  addressed  by 
the  Prophet  are  such  as  were  spending  their  money  for 
that  which  was  not  bread,  and  their  labour  for  that 
which  satisfieth  not ;  expressions  which  will  not  apply  to 
those  who  are  desiring  Christ,  and  the  blessings  of  his 
Gospel,  but  to  those  who  are  endeavouring  to  be  happy 
without  them :  to  all  these  the  Lord  Jesus  is  represent- 
ed as  saying,  "  Hearken  diligently  unto  me.  Come  un- 
to me :  I  will  give  you  the  sure  mercies  of  David ;  then 
shall  ye  eat  that  which  is  good,  and  your  soul  shall  de- 
light itself  in  fatness.  I  am  the  way  to  happiness. 
Men  shall  be  blessed  in  me."  The  blessing  of  the  Gos- 
pel, by  which  men  are  made  happy,  is  not  only  justifi- 
cation through  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  but  also 
sanctification  by  his  Spirit.  An  unrenewed  heart  can 
no  more  be  happy  in  any  place  or  circumstances,  than 
a  diseased  body  can  be  rendered  easy  and  comforta- 
ble by  situation  and  external  advantages.  Until  the 
carnal  mind,  which  is  enmity  against  God,  be  regenera- 
ted, and  brought  to  love  God  supremely,  there  can  be 
no  peace ;  as  long  as  the  heart  is  under  the  dominion  of 
predominant  selfishness,  and  all  those  lusts  and  passions 
to  which  it  gives  rise,  it  must  be  miserable.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  love,  the  human  bosom  must  be  the  seat  of  un- 
easiness and  distress.  Happiness  does  not  arise  from  pos- 
sessions, so  much  as  from  dispositions :  it  is  not  what  a  man 
has,  or  where  he  dwells,  but  what  he  is.  Whatever  be 
the  great  source  of  felicity,  the  springs  of  it  must  be 


268 

seated  in  our  nature.  There  are  certain  tempers,  the 
absence  of  which  would  render  heaven  a  place  of  tor- 
ment to  us ;  and  others,  which  would  raise  for  us  an 
Eden  in  the  dreariest  wilderness  on  earth. 

Love  is  essential  to  the  happiness  of  a  moral  agent. 
This  was  the  original  rectitude  of  our  nature.  Man 
was  made  for  love ;  to  love  God  supremely,  and  to  love 
whatever  is  like  God,  or  related  to  him.  This  disposi- 
tion was  not  only  his  temper  in  Paradise,  but  it  was  the 
very  paradise  of  his  soul,  in  which  he  held  the  sweetest 
communion  with  God  and  universal  being.  This  tuned 
his  heart  to  harmony  with  his  Maker  and  his  fellow  crea- 
tures. Every  movement  of  his  heart  was  a  movement 
of  love ;  and  all  his  desires  so  many  aspirations  of  love : 
this  constituted  at  once  his  honour  and  his  happiness. 
Hence,  the  implantation  of  this  grace  in  his  soul  is  the 
bringing  back  of  man  again  to  his  original  state,  to  his 
"  divinely  natural  condition ;"  and,  therefore,  it  is  the 
restoration  of  him  to  true  complacency  and  satisfaction. 
It  is  true  that  many,  in  the  absence  of  this,  pretend  to 
some  kind  of  enjoyment,  and  have  it  too;  for  there  are 
pleasures  of  sin,  such  as  they  are :  but  as  to  solid  hap- 
piness,— that  which  befits  and  satisfies  a  rational,  mo- 
ral, and  immortal  creature, — it  may  with  the  greatest 
tmth  be  affirmed,  that  the  wicked  are  hke  the  troubled 
sea,  that  cannot  rest,  but  is  continually  casting  up  mire 
and  dirt. 

Let  any  one  consider  the  passions  which  love  expels  from 
the  bosom,  or  which  it  keeps  in  subjection  where  it  does 
not  eradicate  them,  and  ask  if  that  heart  can  be  the  seat 
of  comfort,  or  the  region  of  peace,  where  they  predomi- 
nate. As  well  may  we  expect  quietude  and  comfort  in 
a  haunt  of  banditti,  or  in  a  den  of  wild  beasts,  or  in  a 
field  of  battle,  as  in  a  heart  where  anger,  wrath,  malice, 
envy,  pride,  and  revenge,  have  taken  up  their  abode. 
On  the  other  hand,  how  calm,  and  composed,  and 
cheerful,  is  that  heart,  where  meekness  is  the  presiding 
spirit ;  where  love  to  God  has  introduced  benevolence 
to  man, — a  temper  which  follows  it  as  closely  as  its 
shadow,  and  has  subjugated  the  temper  to  the  domioion 


269 

of  charity !  Let  any  one  consult  his  own  experience, 
and  inquire  if  there  be  not  an  ineffable  delight  in  the 
feelings  of  benevolent  regard  ;  whether  such  a  state  do 
not  resemble  one  of  those  calm  and  glowing  summer 
evenings,  when  nature  seems  to  be  quietly  recUning  on 
the  bosom  of  peace.  But  how  demon-like  is  the  feeling 
when  the  turbulent  passions  gain  the  ascendency :  what 
agitation  and  what  torment  are  the  result ! 

Love  is  the  very  element  ichich  is  congenial  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  renders  the  heart  the  abode  of  his  delight. 
"  The  irascible  passions,"  says  Mr.  Hall,  in  his  beauti- 
ful tract  on  the  Work  of  the  Spirit,  "  surround  the  soul 
with  a  sort  of  troubled  atmosphere,  than  which  nothing 
is  more  contrary  to  the  calm  and  holy  light  in  which  the 
Spirit  loves  to  dwell."  "  Let  all  bitterness,  and  wrath, 
and  clamour,  and  evil-speaking,  be  put  away  from  you, 
with  all  malice  ;  and  grieve  not  the  Spirit  of  God ;" — an 
expression  as  we  have  already  considered,  which,  from 
its  context,  intimates  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  suscepti- 
ble of  offence ;  and  pecuUarly  so,  by  any  neglect  or 
violation  of  the  law  of  love.  Every  thing  connected 
with  our  spiritual  well-being  depends  on  the  indwelling 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  our  hearts  :  when  this  divine  guest 
retires  from  our  souls,  and  withdraws  his  gracious  in- 
fluences, he  gives  utterance  at  the  same  time  to  the 
solemn  denunciation,  "  Wo  be  unto  you,  if  my  soul  de- 
part from  you."  The  heart  of  the  believer  assumes 
then  the  character  and  appearance  of  a  temple  forsaken 
by  its  deity:  all  is  ruin  and  desolation;  the  sacrifice, 
ceases,  the  altar  is  overthrown,  the  fire  is  extinguished. 
We  have  all  much  need  to  present  with  the  utmost  fer- 
vour the  supplication  of  the  Psalmist,  "  Cast  me  not 
away  from  thy  presence,  and  take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit 
from  me."  No  witness  to  our  sonship,  no  consolations, 
no  faith,  no  hope,  no  growth  in  grace,  no  joy  and  peace 
in  believing, — can  then  be  enjoyed;  instead  of  this  we 
shall  be  abandoned  to  worldly-mindedness,  unbelief, 
despondency,  gloomy  apprehensions,  and  foreboding 
anticipations.  Now  the  Spirit  will  retire  from  that  heart 
84* 


270 

which  is  destitute  of  love,  and  which  is  perpetually  in- 
dulging in  tempers  of  an  opposite  description.  If,  then, 
you  would  retain  this  divine  visitant — this  illustrious 
guest ;  if  you  would  indeed  continue  to  be  the  temples 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  if  you  would  have  God  abiding  in 
you  ; — cultivate  the  grace  of  charity ;  invite  him  to  your 
souls  foT  this  very  purpose ;  yield  yourselves  to  his  ten- 
der solicitations  and  gracious  drawings ;  open  your 
minds  to  his  gentle  illapses  ;  and  when  at  any  time  you 
feel  an  unusual  relenting  of  mind,  follow  up  the  im- 
pression and  resign  your  whole  selves  to  the  benign 
power  of  which  you  are  at  that  time  the  happy  subjects. 
Love  will  promote  your  own  peace  and  comfort,  by 
conciliating  the  good-will  and  kindness  of  others.  In  all 
the  commerce  of  life,  we  are  generally  paid  back  in  the 
same  kind  of  conduct  which  we  maintain  towards  oth- 
ers. Ill  will,  and  pride,  and  envy,  and  selfishness,  are 
sure  to  excite  and  to  array  against  us  the  bad  passions 
of  mankind.  Under  such  circumstances,  many  will 
take  delight  in  annoying  us  ;  all  our  unkindnesses  will 
tome  back  upon  us  in  innumerable  acts  of  retaliation. 
But  love  conciliates  esteem.  "  The  meek  shall  inherit 
the  earth ;"  their  quiet,  and  inoffensive,  and  benevolent 
spirit  subdues,  by  a  mild  but  irresistible  power,  the  most 
violent  and  injurious  tempers.  It  has  often  led  the  lion, 
the  tiger,  and  the  serpent,  by  its  soft  and  silken  cord; 
it  has  charmed  to  tameness  not  only  the  fierceness  of 
wild  beasts,  but  the  frantic  rage  of  the  furies.  It  was 
thus  that  Jacob  subdued  the  rage  of  Esau,  who  was 
marching  against  him  with  purposes  of  revenge  ;  so  that 
instead  of  executing  his  wrath,  "he  ran  to  meet  him,  and 
embraced  him,  and  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed  him." 
It  was  thus  that  David  softened  the  heart  of  Saul,  and 
disarmed  his  malignity  of  its  murderous  intention.  "  Is 
this  the  voice  of  my  son  David  1"  said  the  royal  persecu- 
tor ;  "  and  he  lifted  up  his  voice,  and  wept,  saying  to 
David,  Thou  art  more  righteous  than  I,  for  thou  hast 
rewarded  me  good,  whereas  I  have  rewarded  thee  evil." 
"Who  is  he  that  will  harm  you,"  said  the  Apostle,  "  if 


271 

you  are  followers  of  that  which  is  good  T'  Who  can  be 
the  enemy  of  charity  1  Who  will  subject  himself  to 
the  odium  and  reproach  of  being  unkind  to  love  1 

In  all  these  ways  do  we  promote  our  own  peace  by 
the  cultivation  of  this  temper.     And  can  we  be  indif- 
ferent to  our  own  comfort  1     Is  it  a  matter  of  no  mo- 
ment to  us,  whether  our  bosom  be  the  seat  of  quietude 
or  agitation*?     Oh  no;  it  is  not,  it  cannot  be.     But  we 
have  had  our  attention  too  much  drawn  off  from  our- 
selves.    We  have  forgotten  that  it  is  said,  the  good  man 
shall  be  satisfied  from  himself     We  have  thought  or 
acted  too  much  as  if  we  thought  the  sources  of  peace 
were  without  us,  and  beyond   us.     We   are  not  yet 
cured  of  the  disease  of  earthly-mindedness.   We  still  la- 
bour under  the  mistake,  that  happiness  is  something  un- 
connected with  moral  dispostion ;  that  it  is  a  matter 
foreign  from  ourselves,  and  arising  from  the  adventitious 
circumstances  of  wealth,  and  rank,  and  fame.     It  is 
time  to  take  another  course,  to  try  another  scheme, 
and  to  adopt  other  means.     Let  us  seek  God's  grace 
to  open  springs  of  pleasure  in  ourselves.     Not  that  we 
are  to  seek  in  ourselves  for  joy  and  peace,  when  suffer- 
ing under  a  consciousness  of  sin  ;  not  that,  as  sinners, 
we  are  to  seek  relief  from  the  burden  of  guilt  in  our 
own  virtues  or  graces  ;  not  that  we  are  in  any  sense  to 
look  to  our  own  works,  as  constituting  our  justifying 
righteousness :  in  all  these  views  of  our  case,  we  must 
rejoice  only  in  the  Lord;  but  as  those  who  are  justified, 
and  at  peace  with  God  through  Christ,  we  are  to  <lo  the 
work  of  righteousness,  which  is  peace,  and  enjoy  the 
effect  of  righteousness,  which  is  quietness  and  assurance 
for  ever:  we  are  to  covet  the  rejoicing  which  Paul 
speaks  of  as  arising  from  "  the  testimony  of  our  con- 
science, that  in  simplicity  and  godly  sincerity,  not  with 
fleshly  wisdom,  but  by  the  grace  of  God,  we  have  had 
our  conversation  in  the  world."     There  is  the  joy  of 
justification,  and  the  joy  of  sanctification  :  one,  the  de- 
light of  being  restored  to  God's  favour  by  the  work  of 
Christ,  and  the  other  the  joy  of  being  restored  to  God's 
image  by  the  work  of  the  spirit.     Many  seem  afraid  of 


272 

the  joys  of  holiness,  and  count  all  delight  but  that  of 
faith  to  be  a  mere  effervescence  of  self-righteousness, 
and  which  only  intoxicates  the  soul  with  pride.  Wliy, 
then,  has  our  Lord  pronounced  his  sevenfold  beatitude 
on  the  graces  of  a  renewed  mind  1  Why  has  he  thus 
so  emphatically  and  solemnly  connected  happiness  with 
holiness  1  The  angels  are  happy,  because  they  are  ho- 
ly :  and  the  heavenly  felicity  is  the  perfection  of  sancti- 
ty. In  proportion,  therefore,  as  we  give  ourselves  up 
to  the  influence  and  the  government  of  love,  we  ap- 
proach to  the  blessedness  of  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect.  He  that  lives  in  love  shall  drink  of  the 
waters  of  his  own  cistern,  and  be  satisfied ;  he  shall, 
every  morning,  find  this  heavenly  manna  lying  upon  the 
surface  of  his  soul,  and  be  fed  with  it  to  eternal  life ; 
and  finding  himself  united  by  faith  to  the  truth,  he  shall 
find  peace  within,  though  in  the  world  he  should  have 
tribulation. 

True  religion  is  no  sullen  stoicism,  or  gloomy  melan- 
choly ;  it  is  not  an  enthralling  tyranny  exercised  over 
the  noble  and  generous  sentiments  of  love  and  delight, 
as  those  who  are  strangers  to  it  imagine  :  but  it  is  full 
of  a  vigorous  and  masculine  felicity,  such  as  ennobles, 
instead  of  degrading,  the  soul ;  such  as  invigorates,  in- 
stead of  enervating,  its  powers  ;  such  as  does  not  dis- 
pirit and  sadden  the  mind  afterwards,  when  the  season 
of  enjoyment  is  gone  by,  as  do  earthly  and  sensual 
pleasures ;  but  elevates  its  views  and  purposes,  and 
strengthens  it  for  lofty  enterprise  and  heroic  deeds,  by 
giving  it  to  drink  of  the  river  of  life,  clear  as  crystal, 
which  flows  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb, 
and  refreshing  it  with  what,  in  a  true  and  a  holy  sense, 
may  be  called  the  nectar  of  immortality.  That  reli- 
gion which  does  not  consist  in  mere  airy  notions,  in 
cold  and  heartless  orthodoxy,  in  pharisaic  forms  and 
ceremonies,  but  in  faith  working  by  love, — love  to  God, 
to  Christ,  to  the  brethren,  and  to  the  world, — does 
sometimes,  in  its  higher  elevations,  lead  the  soul  into  a 
mount  of  transfiguration,  where  it  glows  amidst  the 
•plendour  that  falls  on  it  irom  the  excellent  glory :  or 


273 

takes  it  to  the  top  of  Pisgah,  where  it  sees  the  distant 
prospect  of  the  promised  land  ;  thus  placing  it  in  the 
porch  of  heaven,  and  on  the  confines  of  eternity. 

2.  Love  prepares  the  soul  for  making  greater  attain- 
ment in  all  other  parts  of  religion.  It  is  produced  by 
knowledge  and  faith ;  but,  by  a  reaction,  it  increases 
the  power  of  its  own  cause.  It  is  just  that  state  of 
heart,  which  is  adapted  to  the  growth  of  all  the  plants 
of  religion,  that  without  it  are  soon  spoiled  by  the  im- 
pure droppings  of  our  own  corrupt  and  selfish  affec- 
tions. How  much  will  our  growth  in  knowledge  be 
aided  by  this  state  of  soul  1  "If  any  man  will  do  the 
will  of  God,"  said  Christ,  "  he  shall  know  of  the  doc- 
trine, whether  it  be  of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  of  my- 
self." Disposition  prepares  for  knowledge.  When 
Zoroaster's  scholars  asked  him  what  they  should  do  to 
get  winged  souls,  such  as  might  soar  aloft  in  the  bright 
beams  of  truth,  he  bade  them  bathe  in  the  waters  of 
life  ;  and  upon  being  required  to  state  what  they  are, 
replied,  "  The  four  cardinal  virtues,  which  are  the  four 
rivers  of  Paradise."  The  reason  why  truth  prevails 
no  more  in  the  world,  is  because  there  is  so  little  love- 
Our  views  are  contracted  and  dim,  not  because  of 
the  narrowness  of  the  prospect  or  the  want  of  a  sun 
to  enlighten  it,  but  because  both  the  luminary  and 
the  scene  are  veiled  by  those  mists  which  our  corrup- 
tions send  up  from  our  hearts  to  becloud  our  under- 
standings. The  holier  we  are,  the  clearer  will  the  truth 
appear  to  our  intellect,  and  the  better  able  shall  we  be 
to  bear  the  brightness  of  his  glory  :  even  as  our  Lord 
declares,  that  it  is  purity  of  heart  which  must  prepare 
us  to  sustain  the  beatific  vision.  The  pagan  sages  also 
prescribe  to  their  pupils  a  certain  moral  disposition,  as 
essential  to  advancement  in  knowledge ;  and  so  does 
Christianity.  Plato  taught,  that  he  who,  by  universal 
love  and  holy  affection,  was  raised  above  the  dominion 
of  selfishness,  came  into  the  nearest  union  with  God, 
and  attained  to  the  highest  intellectual  life :  and  this  is 
the  unction  of  the  Holy  One,  mentioned  by  the  Apos- 
tle whereby  we  know  all  things.     Our  souls  are  top 


274 

clouded  and  too  agitated  by  the  bad  feelings  of  our 
hearts,  to  make  great  attainments  in  holy  light.  The 
moral  excellence  of  the  truth  is  hidden  from  us ;  it  pas- 
ses before  us  in  dark  outline,  an  awful  and  majestic 
form  ;  we  see  its  back  parts,  but  we  discover  not  the 
brightness  and  the  beauty  of  its  countenance,  as  we 
might  do,  on  account  of  our  want  of  holy  conformity 
to  its  nature,  and  of  fitness  for  its  fellowship.  Let  us, 
then  grow  in  love,  that  we  may  grow  in  knowledge. 

And  with  respect  to  faith,  the  more  we  are  brought 
to  feel  the  influence  of  the  great  scheme  of  redeeming 
love,  in  transforming  us  into  its  own  image,  and  causing 
us  to  love  others,  as  God  for  Christ's  sake  has  loved  us, 
the  more  firm  will  be  our  conviction  of  the  divine  ori- 
gin of  the  plan  which  has  thus  wrought  so  marvellous 
a  change  upon  us.  He  that  believeth  hath  the  witness 
in  himself,  in  the  rcAolution  of  feeUng,  of  motive  and 
of  aim,  ^vhich  lias  b«^.en  produced  in  his  soul.  Tohimthe 
experimental  evidence  of  the  tnith  of  the  Gospel  appears 
with  a  brightness  which  none  of  the  rest  possess.  He  is 
himself  an  evidence  of  the  divine  power  which  accompa- 
nies the  truth.  No  subtle  argumentation  can  reason 
him  out  of  the  consciousness  of  that  change  and  de- 
liverance which  he  has  experienced  from  })redominant 
selfishness  to  love.  If  all  Christians  acted  fully  up  to 
their  principles,  and  drank  as  deeply  as  they  might  do, 
and  should  do,  of  the  spirit  of  charity,  the  impress  of 
heaven  would  be  so  clearly  enstamped  upon  the  church, 
that  the  divinity  of  the  Gosj)el  could  no  longer  remain 
a  matter  of  question  with  any.  Who  can  doubt  the 
heavenly  origin  of  that  system  which  has  raised  him 
not  only  to  a  heavenly  hope,  but  to  a  heavenly  teipper  ? 

3.  The  credit  and  honour  of  religion  require  that  we 
should  seek  after  higher  attainments  in  love.  It  is  well 
known  by  all  who  possess  only  the  most  superficial  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Word  of  God,  that  the  end  and  de- 
sign of  the  great  scheme  of  revealed  truth, — a  scheme 
which  occupied  tiie  coimcils  of  heaven  from  eternity, 
and  was  accom|)lished  by  an  incarnation  of  God  him- 
self; that  the  end  for  which  the  Son  of  God  was  cruci- 


275 

fied, — a  mystery  which  angels  desire  to  look  into, — was 
not  merely  to  bring  a  set  of  notions  into  the  world,  and  i 
to  induce  men  to  change  one  class  of  opinions  and  forms 
for  another,  still  leaving  the  heart  of  man  as  impure  and 
selfish  as  ever  :  on  the  contrary,  it  is  known  that  God 
has  come  down  to  our  nature,  to  raise  us  to  his;  that 
the  whole  plan  of  salvation  terminates  in  the  renewal 
and  perfection  of  the  human  race  in  the  principles  of 
purity  and  benevolence.     It  has  been  declared,  wher- 
ever Christianity  has  travelled,  that  the  essence  of  re- 
ligion is   love.     Hence    expectations,  which,   though 
rising  high,  are  well  founded,  have  been  indulged  in 
reference  to  the  benign  and  holy  temper  of  the  follow- 
ers of  the  Lamb.     Men  have  said,  "  Let  us  see  how 
those  Christians  conduct  themselves."     What  disgust 
and  disappointment  have  been,  in  many  cases,  and  to  a 
wide  extent,  the  result !     Has  the  church  of  God  yet 
answered  to  its  own  professions,  or  to  the  expectations 
of  its  spectators  and  enemies  1     Has  religion  derived 
all  the  advantage,  in  the  way  of  attestation  and  recom- 
mendation, which  it  should,  from  the  conduct  of  its 
friends  ]     Are  they  seen  everywhere  so  meek,  so  just, 
so  kind,  so  candid,  so  benevolent,  so  humble, — as  to 
excite  admiration,  and  to  extort  the  concession  that  the 
principles  which  could  produce  such  conduct  must  be 
from  heaven  1     On  the  contrary,  have  not  multitudes 
who  judge  of  Christianity,  not  as  they  should  do  by  it- 
self, but  by  the  conduct  of  its  professors,  received,  from 
the  offensive  exhibitions  of  pride,  and  selfishness,  and 
malice,  which  they  are  doomed  to  witness  sometimes  in 
the  church,  an  unutterable  disgust,  an  invincible  preju- 
dice against  Christianity  1  Where  is  the  spirit  of  charity 
which  was  exhibited  ia  the  great  Author  of  Christianitv, 
and  which  is  enjoined  in  his  precepts,  and  contained  m 
his  system] — is  a  question  a  thousand  times  asked,  even 
by  those  who  live  in  a  Christian  land,  but  who  see  little 
there  of  universal  love.     Creeds  and  catechisms,  forms 
and  ceremonies,  devotional  seasons  and  religious  ob- 
servances, will  be  thought  of  little  worth,  and  will  do 
little  to  ensure  the  esteem  and  to  engage  the  imitation 


276 

of  mankind,  in  the  absence  of  that  disposition  which  all 
•  these  things  are  adapted  and  intended  to  produce.  The 
world's  demand  of  the  church  is  for  love :  "  We  have 
had,"  say  they,  "  enough  of  opinions ;  let  us  now  have 
actions  :  we  have  had  more  than  enough  of  articles  of 
faith ;  let  us  now  see  more  of  the  fruits  of  love."  And 
how  shall  we  meet  that  demand  1  Not  by  exhibiting  less 
of  truth,  but  more  of  love :  not  by  giving  up  our  creeds, 
or  our  forms,  but  by  carrying  them  out  into  all  the  beau- 
tiful effects  of  beneficence  and  purity. 

Christians ;  the  character  of  religion  is  entrusted  to 
our  keeping,  and  we  are  continually  defaming  it,  or 
raising  its  reputation ;  and  are  either  betraying  it  into  the 
hands  of  its  enemies,  or  conciliating  their  esteem  to- 
wards it.  It  is  high  time  for  us  to  be  more  aware  of  our 
responsibility ;  high  time  for  us  to  consider  that  we  are 
perpetually  employed  in  increasing  or  diminishing  the 
ignominy  of  the  cross.  The  good  conduct  of  professors 
is  a  converting  ordinance,  and  an  edifying  one  too. 
"  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,  that  they,  seeing 
your  good  works,  may  glorify  God  your  heavenly 
father."  "  Shine  as  lights  of  the  world,  holding  forth 
the  word  of  life."  How  1  Not  by  attachment  to  doc- 
trine merely :  no;  the  light  of  truth  will  do  nothing  with- 
out the  light  of  love.  A  fiery  zeal  for  truth,  unaccom- 
panied by  love,  is  the  meteor  that  misleads,  or  the  light- 
ning that  kills,  or  the  eruption  that  overwhelms  and 
consumes ; — all  of  which  men  are  afraid  of,  and  retire 
from  :  but  a  zeal  for  the  truth,  which  is  accompanied  by 
benevolence,  and  produces  it,  is  like  the  orb  of  day, — 
men  come  to  its  light,  and  flock  to  the  brightness  of  its 
rising. 

O  that  my  feeble  voice  could  be  heard,  and  my  coun- 
sel followed,  when  I  call  the  followers  of  Christ  to  a  seri- 
ous consideration  of  the  necessity,  for  the  sake  of  the 
credit  of  religion,  of  being  like  their  great  Saviour  and 
leader !  O  that  ray  words  could  have  weight,  when  I 
entreat  them,  as  they  regard  the  reputation  of  that  Gos- 
pel which  is  all  their  salvation  and  all  their  desire,  to 
covet  earnestly,  and  to  pursue  constantly,  this  "  more 


277 

excellent  way !"  O  that  I  could  prevail,  when  I  beseech 
them — aye,  beseech  them — ^to  study  the  genius  of  their 
religion  in  its  facts,  doctrines,  duties,  and  examples,  to 
see  if  it  be  not  love  !  O  that  I  could  succeed  in  my 
wishes  and  my  efforts,  that  they  might  no  longer,  by  the 
indulgence  of  their  passions,  strengthen  the  bands  of  in- 
iquity which  bind  men  to  their  sins,  and  raise  an  enmity 
against  religion  which  shall  aid  and  accelerate  the  work 
of  damnation !  O  that  a  new  era  would  commence  in  the 
history  of  the  church,  when  finding  what  a  cloud  had 
been  brought  upon  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  by  the  bigo- 
try, intolerance,  and  enormous  cruelties  of  corrupt  and 
persecuting  communities ;  by  the  spirit  of  party  which 
has,  more  or  less,  infected  all  sects  ;  by  the  rancour  of 
controversy ;  by  the  passion  for  war ;  by  the  pride  of 
Pharisaism;  by  the  schisms  of  the  brethren;  by  the  envy, 
covetousness,  and  malice,  of  professors  ; — all  true  Chris- 
tians would  be  baptized  afresh  unto  repentance  in  the 
pure  and  peaceful  waters  of  the  sanctuary,  confessing 
their  sins  of  uncharitableness  and  ill  will :  then  might  it 
be  expected  that,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Divine  head,  so  in 
that  of  the  mystical  body,  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  his  dove- 
like form,  would  descend,  to  "  rest  upon  it,"  and,  by  an 
earthly  glory,  prove  and  display  its  heavenly  origin. 

4.  By  this  means,  we  shall  be  enabled,  in  a  very 
eminent  degree,  to  glorify  God.  For  a  man  to  live  for 
himself,  as  the  ultimate  end  of  his  existence,  is  no  less 
mean,  and  low,  and  little,  than  it  is  wicked.  Selfish- 
ness of  this  kind  not  only  pollutes  the  soul,  but  degrades 
it :  it  limits  its  desires  within  a  very  narrow  compass ; 
imprisons  its  hopes  in  a  poor  contemptible  hovel ;  and 
drags  down  its  ambition  from  the  glory  of  the  infinite 
and  eternal  God,  to  the  paltry  and  insignificant  interests 
of  a  finite  and  unworthy  creature.  The  heart  of  the  - 
real  Christian  is  too  large  to  be  compressed  within  such 
boundaries :  understanding  that  God  is  the  author  of  his 
existence,  he  makes  him  the  end  of  it ;  that  as  he  came 
from  him,  he  may  be  continually  returning  to  him. 
Everything,  in  point  of  dignity  and  elevation,  is  to  be 
estimated  by  the  end  it  seeks.     Its  aims  give  it  what- 

25 


278 

ever  value  it  possesses,  and  fashion  it  into  their  own 
likeness.     Nothing  can  make  that  great,  which  only 
aims  at  what  is  little ;  while  a  sublime  nature  is  impart- 
ed to  that  which  seeks  a  sublime  end.     Now,  a  higher 
end,  no  creature  in  any  world,  however  exalted,  can 
propose  to  itself,  than  the  glory  of  God  ;  and  a  lower 
one,  the  humblest  believer  in  all  God's  family  on  earth 
should  never  seek.     This  is,  indeed,  to  ennoble  the 
soul ;  and  enlarges  it  into  a  universal  and  comprehen- 
sive capacity  of  enjoying  that  one  unbounded  goodness, 
which  is  God  himself;  it  makes  it  spread  out  and  dilate 
itself  in  the  infinite  sphere  of  the  Divine  Being  and  bless- 
edness, and  makes  it  live  in  the  fulness  of  him  that  fiU- 
eth  all  in  all.     "  We  glorify  God,  by  entertaining  the 
impression  of  his  glory  upon  us,  and  not  by  communi- 
cating any  kind  of  glory  to  him.     Then  does  a  good 
man  become  the  tabernacle  of  God,  wherein  the  divine 
Shechinah  does  rest,  and  which  the  divine  glory  fills, 
when  the  frame  of  his  mind  and  life  is  wholly  according 
to  that  idea  and  pattern  which  he  receives  from  the 
mount.     We  best  glorify  him,  when  we  grow  most  like 
him  ;  and  we  then  act  most  for  his  glory,  when  a  true 
spirit  of  sanctity,  justice,  and  meekness,  runs  through 
all  our  actions ;  when  we  so  live  as  becomes  those  that 
converse  with  the  great  mind  and  wisdom  of  the  whole 
world  ;  with  that  Almighty  Spirit  that  made,  supports, 
and  governs  all  things  ;  with  that  Being  from  whence  all 
good  flows,  and  in  which  there  is  no  spot,  stain,  or 
shadow  of  evil ;  and  so,  being  captivated  and  overcome 
by  the  sense  of  divine  loveliness  and  goodness,  endea- 
vour to  be  like  him,  and  to  conform  ourselves  as  much 
as  may  be  to  him.     As  God's  seeking  his  own  glory  in 
respect  of  us  Ls  most  properly  the  flowing  forth  of  his 
goodness  upon  us ;  so  our  seeking  the  glory  of  God  is 
most  properly  our  endeavouring  a  participation  of  his 
goodness,  and  an  earnest  incessant  pursuing  after  the 
divine  perfection.     When  God  becomes  so  great  in  our 
eyes,  and  all  created  things  so  little,  that  we  reckon  nothing 
as  worthy  of  our  aims  and  ambition,  but  a  serious  par- 
ticipation of  the  divine  nature,  and  the  exercise  of  di- 


279 

vine  virtues — ^love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  kindness, 
goodness,  and  the  like ;  when  the  soul,  beholding  the  in- 
finite beauty  and  loveliness  of  the  Divinity,  and  then 
looking  down  and  beholding  all  created  perfection  man- 
tled over  with  darkness,  is  ravished  into  love  and  admi- 
ration of  that  never-setting  brightness,  and  endeavours 
after  the  greatest  resemblance  of  God,  in  justice,  love, 
and  goodness ;  when  conversing  with  him  by  a  secret 
feeling  of  the  virtue,  sweetness,  and  power  of  his  good- 
ness, we  endeavour  to  assimilate  ourselves  to  him ; — 
then  we  may  be  said  to  glorify  him  indeed."*  These  fine 
sentiments  should  be  engraven  on  our  hearts,  that  they 
may  be  constantly  reduced  by  us  to  practice.  O,  who 
that  would  have  his  nature  exalted  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
honour  and  happiness,  ought  not  to  cultivate  that  dispo- 
sition which  is  the  brightest  representation  contained  in 
our  world  of  its  Divine  Creator.  To  be  the  instrument 
of  giving  publicity  to  human  excellence,  of  fixing  the  at- 
tention of  others  upon  those  qualities  which,  although 
eminently  praiseworthy,  were  but  little  known,  and  ex- 
citing admiration  on  their  behalf,  is  no  mean  or  unin- 
teresting employment;  but  to  exHbit  a  temper,  which  is 
the  likeness  of  God,  to  manifest  a  virtue,  in  reference  to 
which  it  may  be  said  that  it  is  an  image  of  Deity,  what 
an  unspeakable  dignity  and  delight.  This  is,  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  term,  to  be  raised  into  fellowship 
with  God, — a  word  that  signifies  not  only  an  act  of  in- 
tercourse, but  a  state  of  communion ;  a  communion  of 
ends  and  aims,  a  kind  of  partnership  in  purpose  and  pur- 
suit God  is  ever  seeking  his  own  glory,  as  his  ultimate 
aim  in  all  his  worts  :  his  perfection  prevents  him  from 
seeking  a  lower  end,  and  a  higher  he  cannot  seek  :  to 
manifest  himself  is  his  supreme  purpose  ;  and  we  can 
easily  imagine  that  the  manifestation  of  love  is  the  end  to 
which  all  the  other  displays  of  his  attributes  are  made 
subservient.  Have  we  any  hallowed  ambition  in  our 
nature  here  is  scope  for  its  gratification,  here  is  an  ob- 

*  "  Select  Discourses,  by  John  Smith;"  a  book  which  for  its  com- 
bination of  learning,  genius,  and  piety,  has  scarcely  its  parallel  in  the 
English  language, 


280 

ject  towards  which  we  may  let  forth  all  its  energies, — to 
hold  communion  with  God  in  the  manifestation  of  his 
glory :  what  can  angels  do  more,  except  it  he  to  do  it 
more  perfectly  ■?  Christians  ;  see  your  high  vocation  : 
you  are  set  apart  not  only  by  God,  but  for  him  ;  consti- 
tuted a  people,  to  show  forth  his  praise  ;  appointed,  not 
only  to  receive  his  grace,  but  to  reflect  his  beauty.  Your 
highest  glory  is  to  manifest  His.  His  image  is  the  rich- 
est ornament  of  your  moral  nature  ;  and  to  show  it  to 
the  world,  your  great  business  upon  earth.  The  mean- 
est Christian  shows  forth  more  of  God  than  the  heavens 
which  declare  his  glory,  and  the  firmament  which  show- 
eth  his  handy  work :  he  is  a  brighter  object  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  teaches  more  of  its  infinite  Author,  than  the 
sun  in  his  mid-day  splendour,  or  the  moon  in  her  beauty, 
attended  by  her  starry  train,  that  glitter  upon  the  vault 
of  night.  But  to  rise  to  this  eminence,  we  must  excel 
in  love ;  we  must  put  forth  all  its  excellencies,  and  put 
them  forth  in  all  their  vigour,  and  fulness,  and  harmo- 
ny,— each  in  its  time,  and  its  place,  and  its  occasion ; 
for  then  shall  we  be  like  God :  and  to  be  like  him  is,  in 
the  highest  sense,  to  glorify  him ;  and  to  glorify  him,  by 
being  made  partakers  of  a  divine  nature,  is  to  receive, 
80  far  as  a  creature  can  receive  it,  a  kind  of  inferior 
apotheosis,  and  to  live  up  to  the  very  height  of  our  being, 
our  honour,  and  our  bliss. 

5.  Another  motive,  and  it  is  the  last  we  shall  ad- 
vance, for  the  cultivation  of  love  is, — that  it  is  the  state 
of  mind  ichich  carries  the  soul  on  to  its  ultimate  perfection 
in  the  celestial  state,  meetens  it  for  that  state^  and  ^ives  it  a 
foretaste  of  its  felicity. 

It  has  been  observed  by  the  learned  Cudworth,  who 
appears  to  have  borrowed  the  idea  from  Plutarch, 
that  Divine  Wisdom  hath  so  ordered  the  frame  of  the 
whole  universe,  that  every  thing  should  have  its  own  ap- 
propriate receptacle,  to  which  it  shall  be  drawn  by  all 
the  mighty  force  of  an  irresistible  affinity:  and  as  all 
heavenly  bodies  press  towards  the  common  centre  of 
gravity,  so  is  all  sin,  by  a  kind  of  strong  sympathy  and 
magnetic  influence,  drawn  towards  hell ;  while,  on  the 


281 

other  hand,  all  holiness  is  continually  drawn  upwards  to 
heaven,  to  embosom  itself  in  glory.  Hell  is  nothing 
else  but  that  orb  in  which  all  evil  moves;  and  heaven  is 
the  opposite  hemisphere  of  light,  where  holiness,  which 
is  perfect  love,  eternally  revolves.  Remove  sin  and 
disobedience  out  of  hell,  it  will  immediately  lose  its  dark- 
ness, and  shine  out  in  all  the  serenity  and  beauty  of  hea- 
ven ;  remove  love  from  heaven,  and  its  sun  will  set 
amidst  the  darkness  and  the  storms  of  everlasting  night. 
Heaven  is  not  merely  a  thing  to  come ;  it  is  in  one  sense 
a  present  possession  ;  for  "  he  that  beheveth  in  the  Son 
hath  everlasting  life."  It  is  rather  a  state  than  a  place, — 
a  state  within  us,  rather  than  a  thing  without  us ;  it  is 
the  likeness,  and  the  enjoyment,  and  the  service,  of 
God ;  that  which  every  true  Christian  carries  in  his 
bosom  now,  and  to  which  he  will  fully  enter  hereafter, 
when  he  shall  be  made  perfect  in  love.  To  this  state  all 
true  religion  is  ever  tending :  the  spirit  of  love  is  the  mo- 
tion and  progress  of  the  soul  towards  its  eternal  rest  in 
the  presence  of  God.  No  man  can  be  prepared  for  the 
celestial  felicity,  while  his  heart  is  destitute  of  this ;  and 
whosoever  has  most  of  it,  knows  most  of  the  unseen  and 
ineffable  joys  of  the  righteous.  He  lives  in  the  vestibule 
of  the  heavenly  temple ;  and  is  ready,  whenever  its  doors 
shall  be  opened,  to  enter  into  the  dwelling  place  of  God. 
The  image  of  God  is  upon  him,  and  the  likeness  of 
Deity  is  always  attended  with  something  of  the  happiness 
of  the  Deity.  O  the  bliss  of  that  state,  where  the  facul- 
ties of  the  mind,  inconceivably  expanded,  shall  let  in  the 
full  streams  of  the  divine  beneficence,  and  open  them* 
selves  to  the  uttermost  to  comprehend  the  breadth  and 
length,  the  depth  and  height,  of  that  love  which  passeth 
knowledge  ;  where  divine  goodness  will  so  act  directly 
upon  the  soul,  as  to  raise  it  to  a  state  of  holy  enjoyment 
surpassing  all  our  present  imaginations. 

What  a  motive  to  go  on  in  the  pursuit  of  charity  t 
Who  does  not  wish  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
his  eternal  state?  Who  does  not  wish  to  have  a  more 
correct  knowledge  of  that  condition  in  which  he  is  to 
remain  for  ever  *?    To  attain  to  this,  we  cannot  turn 


282 

aside  the  veil  which  conceals  the  holy  of  holies  from  our 
view ;  we  cannot  look  upon  the  throne  of  God :  we  can- 
not be  rapt  like  Paul  into  the  third  heaven :  no ;  but  we 
may,  like  John,  see  the  New  Jerusalem  coming  down 
out  of  heaven,  and  feel  it  taking  possession  of  our  hearts 
in  the  spirit  of  love.     Rarely,  indeed,  do  Christians  at- 
tain, in  the  present  state,  in  this  unquiet  world,  to  that 
calm  repose  of  mind,  that  serene  enjoyment,  attendant 
upon  the  subjugation  of  the  passions  to  the  gentle  do- 
minion of  benevolence,  which  conveys  to  them  any  very 
high  notion  of  the  supreme  felicity  which  must  be  con- 
nected with  the  consummation  of  such  a  temper.     Hap- 
py seasons  do  occur;  but,  alas !  how  seldom,  when  they 
are  so  far  released  from  the  influence  of  every  selfish 
and  angry  affection — when  they  so  far  feel  the  trans- 
forming influence  of  that  divine  beneficence  which  they 
contemplate — as  to  be  conscious  of  the  perfect  feUcity 
which  must  arise  from  their  being  filled  with  all  the  ful- 
ness of  love.     Let  us  seek  more  and  more  after  these 
anticipations  of  our  eternal  state  :  we  have  not  already 
attained,  neither  are  we  already  perfect ;  but,  forgetting 
the  things  that  are  behind,  let  us  reach  onward,  that  we 
may  apprehend  that  for  which  also  we  are  apprehended 
in  Christ  Jesus.     Heaven  is  not  only  above  us,  before 
us,  beyond  us,  but  may  be  within  us :  we  may  all  know 
more  of  it  than  we  do :  let  us  become  more  and  more 
anxious  to  accumulate,  not  the  perishing  riches  of  silver 
and  gold,  but  the  imperishable  wealth  of  a  holy  and 
heavenly  temper :  let  us  aspire  to  immortality  beyond 
the  grave,  and  to  the  spirit  of  it  upon  earth, — ever  re- 
membering that  a  Christian  is  one  who  professes  to  be 
bom  from  heaven  and  to  be  bound  to  it ;  one  who  has 
more  of  heaven  than  of  earth  in  his  disposition;  one  who 
already  dwelleth  in  heaven  by  dwelling  in  God ;  one 
who  is  meetened  for  converse  with  the  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  with  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, with  God  the  judge  of  all,  and  with  Jesus  the  media- 
tor of  the  new  covenant !  one  who  bears  the  impress  of 
eternity,  and  is  irradiated  with  some  beams  of  the  ce- 
lestial glory  ; — and  how  can  he  give  meaning,  or  con- 


283 

sistency,  or  truth,  to  professions  so  high  and  so  holy, 
except  it  be  by  that  love  which  is  the  fruit  of  regenera- 
tion, the  effect  of  faith,  the  necessary  operation  of  love 
to  God ;  and  which,  being  cherished  in  the  soul  by  the 
grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  comprehends  in  its  em- 
braces the  whole  universe,  and,  in  the  exercise  of  its 
good-will  towards  those  who  come  under  its  influence, 
"  suffereth  long  and  is  kind  ;  envieth  not ;  vaunteth  not 
itself;  is  not  puffed  up ;  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly; 
seeketh  not  her  own ;  is  not  easily  provoked ;  thinketh 
no  evil;  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the 
truth  ;  covereth  all  things ;  believeth  all  things ;"  endu- 
reth  all  things  ;  and  of  which  it  is  sublimely  said,  that 
"  Charity  never  faileth." 


THE    END. 


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4. 


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A     000  018  413     5 


¥^ 


;:^  ' 


